Amethyst Soul
by Aria DC al Fine
Summary: “Who?” He asked again, the epiphany unsettling to himself. “Who am I?” SuzaLulu
1. Prologue

Amethyst Soul

Synopsis: He couldn't remember who he was. The world shunned him, called him "Demon Emperor" for no reason he could recall and his captors glared at him with hatred in their eyes…except for two pairs: one of shining lavender…and another behind a mask. Eventual suzalulu.

Warning: References to other CLAMP's works.

Prologue

He opened his eyes to find that the lid of his coffin had been removed.

He stared at the velvety dark sky ahead, sprinkled by stars that winked at him before he blinked back. Once. Twice. The smell of fresh earth and grasses began to assault his senses. He disentangled his fingers from the position of prayer above his chest and only when he gripped on the sides of what he thought was a rather-hard-bed (strange, considering the sheets below his spine seemed silky) to get up, it dawned on him that he had been lying in a casket. He had been buried. Alive.

He told himself not to panic as he got to his feet and scrambled to climb out of the grave. Someone had dug out all the soil. 'Who might be willing to go through such a trouble?' His brain supplied as he struggled. His footing slipped off the slippery wall of earth repeatedly before he could haul himself out of the hole.

A figure was sitting on a flat platform – the lid of his coffin, the young man realised – set atop mounds of excavated soil, gazing at the sky above. Moonlight spilled on the curvaceous form and revealed more of her features. She was clad in a loosely-tied green kimono, golden phoenixes printed on the fabric, her long, long straight hair resting on one shoulder. When he was scrutinizing her silently, she turned to him, and the first thing he noticed was that she had stunning _mismatched_ eyes. One dulled green and one catlike amber. Both of which seemed familiar to him.

"Finally, you're awake," she huffed, her tranquility shattered. "If you're expecting C.C., she'd been banished. The Guardian had been so angry about her and V.V.'s betrayal. Code owners are supposed to protect God, not conspire to eliminate God. There's a reason why we're keys to C's world, you know," she rose to her feet and dusted off her clothes nonchalantly. "The Guardian was so pleased that you protected God and decided to grant you forgiveness…or a curse depends on how you view it…"

A strong gust of wind blew against them, sending dark brown locks to disarray. The owner seemed unfazed. It disclosed the side of her neck, however, and his eyes couldn't help but revert to the strange mark at the base of the column of flesh. An 'M' like insignia…or more like a deep 'V' with flaps at each side. It looked a crude, simplified version of a crane…

"Who?" The question fell unbidden from his lips.

She raked her hand through that hip-length mess of hair to get it in a semblance of order. "You can call me S.S.. I will be helping you get used to your new role, so I'll stick with you for a while," she spoke calmly, her expression unchanging.

"Who?" He asked again, the epiphany unsettling to himself. "Who am I?"

Those dual-coloured eyes widened slightly as her lips parted in shock. They stared at each other, his gaze radiating with helplessness and hers turning to one of exasperation. "C.C., you…" S.S. sighed under her breath. "You're Lelo-" she paused midway and glanced at him. He tilted his head, his brows knitting, and urged her on.

"Sakurazuka," S.S. shook her head and smiled for the first time. It was a sight to behold, like an antiquated, brittle grayscale photograph that could crumple at a touch. "Your name is Sakurazuka Kamui."

TBC

A/N: No, I didn't post this story at the wrong fandom. 'Kamui' is Lelouch. No, there is no crossover, though there will be more references to X/1999.


	2. Lelouch by any other name

Disclaimer: (I forgot this in the prologue) Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion belongs to Sunrise and CLAMP. X/1999 belongs to CLAMP, too.

A/N: **Those who have story-alerted or favourited this, please review**. I'm sure you have a reason to click that 'go' button beside 'Add Story to Favourites/Story Alert'. I admit that I can be a review whore at times. I have a serious lack of focus with regards to stories (check my bio and you'll understand. I have never finished a non-one-shot story). Reviews either motivate me or send me to a guilty trip (both will make me continue writing). I don't mind one-liners like: 'I read this and find it intriguing. Please update soon' or 'I like Lelouch in pink' (Me too, **Nusku**. Remember a picture of Lelouch and Rolo where Lelouch is wearing a salmon shirt with a tie? Delicious XD). To those who have reviewed, thank you so much, I appreciate every scrap of attention you give to this baby (not because this story is particularly a darling of mine, but because it's so, so young, and in danger of dying).

Chapter 1: Lelouch by any other name is still Lelouch (i.e. the anal over-analyst with OCD)

The young man in the mirror had large almond-shaped amethyst eyes, framed by long lashes the same inky black colour as the strands that fell to the pale, porcelain skin over his fine cheekbones. The rest of his hair cascaded down his back, the curled ends resting on his shoulders and the middle of his spine. His nose and his jaw were defined, yet his features were slightly effeminate…and not at all oriental.

Sakurazuka Kamui touched his reflection and frowned, watching in rapture as creases appeared between the brows of the image, parroting his expression.

It was the first time Kamui had the chance to see himself since he left the – his – tomb. Last night S.S. had asked him to get into the passenger seat of a small dark green car and drove him through several hours' journey. It had been too dark for Kamui to see his reflection on the rear-view and side mirrors. Besides, as soon as Kamui was inside the car, S.S. had handed him a hat, a pair of sunscreen and a sentence: "If you're re-captured you'll be buried alive again."

Kamui had a thousand and one questions to ask: by whom? Why? Do I have enemies? Why do you rescue me? How am I related to you?

Who am I?

_All you've told me was a na__me that reveals none of my past._

But S.S. didn't seem like she would indulge him with an answer, her mismatched eyes fixated on the road (how she could drive in that kimono was beyond Kamui), and before dawn the duo had arrived at a small town by the sea. The car stopped by a little house near the rocky beach with wilting plants coiling the white picket fence. She had shown him into one of the bedrooms, deposited a set of clothing for him to change to and a promise to purchase him more later on.

Kamui went into the bathroom and shed the brown jacket, black sleeveless turtleneck and jeans he wore – they felt slightly moldy and he had to wonder just how long he had been buried before stopping abruptly because he was afraid of the implications of the answer. As he was washing himself, frowning at the dust and grime covering his skin and avoiding the same question again, he noticed a mark on the palm of his right hand, the same crane that was branded on S.S.' neck. It tingled when he traced it with a finger and he repressed a shudder.

After cleaning himself thoroughly, Kamui stepped out from the comfortable spray of hot water, put on the oversized unisex t-shirt and blue cargo pants before wiping the condensation off the cool mirror and scrutinising his appearance.

He couldn't remember how he looked like, but from his name, he'd expected he'd be more Asian, more…Eleven. Was he a half? If so, what was his other nationality?

Was S.S. lying to him?

"Don't be vain," the devil spoke as she passed by, handing him a toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste before brushing her teeth next to the sink he was standing behind. She had discarded her kimono for a monochromic formal assemble, her long hair pinned up to a neat bun.

She raised an eyebrow when he was caught staring at her contemplatively. Kamui blushed and shoved the brush into his mouth as S.S. finished brushing her teeth. "Breakfast's on the dining table," she stated as she exited the bathroom, "the refrigerator is stocked. I'll be off for work. Don't wait up."

"E-eh?" Kamui nearly chocked and he chased her to the porch, toothbrush dangling from his lips notwithstanding. He hadn't asked her anything! "B-but-"

After slipping her feet into her shoes, S.S. turned around to face him, her eyes sombre and steely. "Don't get out of the building, and don't let anyone in."

She left when Kamui was stunned. Only after the click of the lock rang in the air did Kamui start moving again, eyes wide with disbelief.

Breakfast was a carton of high calcium, low fat milk and a packet of cereal. He poured them to an empty porcelain bowl and carried his meal to the living room, switching on the television before plopping onto the sofa.

He glanced at the news as he ate. He couldn't read most of the characters flashed at the bottom of the screen, but he could understand the words spoken by the caster fairly well. That language…was Eleven's. But S.S. had not been speaking to him in that language. It was another language he was well-versed in. Britannian, the word popped into his head, like 'Eleven' had.

The date, 18th August 2021 a.t.b., was showed at the top right corner of the television. Kamui listened absentmindedly as the caster talked of the launching of new Knightmare Frames that are hoped to bring improvements to the agricultural sector, mulling over his lost identity.

Judging from his looks, he should be in his late teenage years. His father was probably an Eleven and his mother a Britannian, if the one information S.S. bestowed him – his name – was to be trusted. Where were his parents now? Were they dead? Did he have any siblings? Probably not, if S.S. was the only one to wait upon him at the graveyard…Who was S.S., anyway? She didn't seem like a relative or a friend…

Then, of course…Kamui flipped his right hand and stared at the symbol. Why did he have that? What was the significance of that mark? How did it connect him to S.S.?

A possibility appeared in Kamui's mind. May be, he had been a mafia, an associate of a secret organisation, or the like. Mafias do that, don't they? Tattooing the members with an emblem? May be that was why he had been buried alive. He got himself into skirmishes, made enemies…may be the only way he could get himself off the hook was to pretend he was dead. Only a mishap happened and he lost his memories in the charade.

There was another thing that bugged him. Kamui was written by the character 'God' in Eleven's language. Was that fact supposed to mean something?

Kamui sighed and leaned back onto the padding of the sofa. His mind was running in circles. He wouldn't be able to progress if any of the conditions weren't cleared, anyways, so he told himself to stop killing his brain cells over inadequate information.

Or he could hunt for a computer and researched recent events.

Kamui rose to his feet in one single determined swoop. The weight of his hair felt strange to his head, like he wasn't used to having such a feminine length, though he honestly couldn't remember how he wore his hair in the past. Besides, the heat of summer was getting to him. Kamui twisted the raven locks and put it to one side before starting his venture.

The amethyst-eyed youth discovered an assortment of household technology: an automatic centralised heating system, washing and drying machine, electric stove, oven, refrigerator, coffee-maker…but no communication devices, no telephone, no fax – the television was Kamui's only connection to the world outside.

And, Kamui observed as he swiped the surface of a tabletop with his fingertip, there was a layer of dust over the place. S.S. hadn't been living here for a long time. Was that house purposely rented for him? There were only two bedrooms, after all…

The youth stopped before his baseless speculations spiralled out of hand.

But he was bored! There was nothing to do…

Or so Kamui thought, before the dust particles he displaced made him sneeze for the umpteenth time.

That settled it. He was going to _purge_ this place.

Pinning his hair up with a pencil he found in the study, Kamui retrieved the vacuum cleaner and rags from the kitchen and set out on removing the tiniest speck of dust from this cottage, letting the television drone on in the background as he listened with half an ear, storing significant news in his brain (hopefully S.S. wouldn't chew him out for wasting electricity?). The cleaning provided a good distraction. And somehow, the mindless activity soothed him.

Kamui avoided the door to S.S.' room till there was no other location to cleanse. He stared at the piece of wood for a couple of minutes, a hand hovering above the handle hesitantly before he sighed. 'Just get on with it!' he peeked in slightly, ready to slam the door back if he saw, say, a man bleeding to death on her mattress.

Instead, he found a shipwreck after a week of storm. There were trinkets strewn all over the four corners: dirty clothes, discarded books, crumpled pieces of papers, chocolate wrappers and empty boxes of…burgers? In short, S.S.' chamber looked like a rat's nest instead of a lady's room.

The switch in Kamui's brain was ticked and before the boy knew it he was already throwing the empty (and moulding) food packaging and other trashes to a garbage bag, hauling the mass of dirty clothes to the laundry – he had the mind to stuff the whole thing down the washing machine, colours be damned, but _he didn't do things like that_ so he got himself a pair of rubber gloves and separated the garments, praying he wouldn't encounter any bras and panties – and arranging the books on the in-built shelf in the room. Most of the books were written in complicated unrecognisable characters different from Eleven's, containing various complicated arrays and diagrams with symbols. Kamui couldn't understand the writings but he recognised the Dao (A/N: Yin-yang circle) splashed on a page and suspected the reading materials had something to do with the spiritual world. Why was S.S. reading these books? Were they related to her work?

Kamui wondered if it was just in his nature to ask copious questions.

As the washing and drying machines did their work, Kamui vacuumed S.S.' room and aired the mattress and pillows. He changed the sheets before arranging the cleaned clothes in her closet according to colours – not as tedious as it sounded, really, because Kamui realised most of S.S.' clothes were black or white, formal western blouses, blazers and skirts. Clothes like the green kimono she wore last night – bright-coloured and eastern – were extremely sporadic.

In his task, Kamui discovered one neat pile of clothes, folded and ironed (weren't his doing at all), consisting mostly of monochromic shirts, pants and trench coats. Strange, considering the previous chaos he came across. The amethyst-eyed youth picked one short-sleeved black turtleneck from the top of the stack, a buckle adorning the collar, and put the attire against his torso. From the seam and the cutting, it was clearly a man's apparel; a little big for Kamui, but S.S. could lend him these garbs instead of buying him new ones. He sniffed the fabric. There was an undertone of cologne, musky and spicy beneath the scent of a peculiar detergent, a sweet and cloying floral fragrance. Unlike other garments, this pile had been well maintained.

Kamui smelled his own shirt and grimaced. It reeked of sweat, the material drenched in perspiration from the heat and the chores. The discomfort he was distracted from weighed on him full force that instance, and he took off the shirt and used it to wipe his sweat before grabbing the turtleneck and putting it on.

As Kamui put the rest back to the drawer, a framed photograph slipped out and cluttered to the wooden floor. The picture was faded and crumbling at the corners, the colours turned brownish from the oxidation of the inks, but it was clearly as treasured as the clothes.

A man was inside the photo, young and beautiful, strands of silky pitch black hair framing smooth, porcelain face with such fine bone structure, his complexion enhanced by the black shirt, white coat and blood red scarf he wore. He looked…sad, though, wore grief like a second skin, bone-deep weariness and resignation emanating from the line of his lips, his smile shattered pieces of forgotten happiness put together wrongly. His eyes – round, delicate, long-lashed features – were mismatched, one dulled, dead green and the other strangely aggressive, mocking amber. (1)

'Is he…S.S' brother?' Kamui traced the glass over the man's face with his finger. The two looked nothing alike, her face oval instead of heart-shaped like the man's, her hair brown, her facial features rounded, but they shared the same mismatched eyes. 'Half brother, then?'

"Kamui?" a high-pitched effeminate voice echoed through the house, nearly making him jump a foot in the air in shock. "Kamui? Where are you? I'm back from work!"

"H-here!" Kamui put the frame on top of the clothes and closed the drawer haphazardly. He rose to his feet, glancing at the sky over the window as he proceeded to get out of S.S.' room and was surprised that it was filled by an orchestra of swirling gold, vermilion and amethyst. The cleaning had been too good a distraction.

S.S. was washing her hands in the kitchen sink when he met her. There were several shopping bags on the floor, cluttered near her feet, but Kamui's eyes were glued to the rivulets of water dripping down her fingers. Was it Kamui's imagination or did the water really have a reddish tinge? "I've bought you the clothes I promi-"

Her dual-coloured eyes widened to the size of saucers when she looked up at him. Before Kamui could even blink, he found himself backed against a wall, S.S.' hand clenched tightly around a patch of fabric below his larynx. For a girl almost half a foot shorter than him she was strong, her grip iron vices, oozing with a sharp coppery scent and the similar floral fragrance he discovered from the turtleneck. "Take it off!" she snarled to his face, her eyes vicious.

Amethyst eyes widened in response. "S.S., w-what-" he gasped.

"Take the shirt off!" she nearly screamed, a frantic edge clear in her voice, a hysterical gleam in her eyes, the look often found in cornered animals who are resolved to fighting tooth and nails to survive. "You have no right-!" she choked, her knuckles whitening.

"Yes, I will take it off. I will," Kamui replied obediently and raised his hands in an offer of peace. He appeared strangely calm, though his heart was pulsing more rapidly. "Please let go of me first."

She inhaled deeply before letting go, her hand trembling, and Kamui was quick to open the buckle around his neck and stripped out of the shirt, handing it over to her slowly, as though afraid he was going to be amputated if his limb got too close to her.

She snatched it and buried her face into the fabric, tense shoulders relaxing like a taut string that had been cut abruptly after breathing in the scent, her eyes closing.

Kamui watched her warily, one hand rubbing the base of his neck to soothe the skin. It was probably going to bruise. The pencil that kept his hair up had fallen in the commotion, and his hair was tickling his back, but he didn't dare to pick the pencil up.

"I'm sorry…" S.S. sounded way, way saner after she extracted her face from the cloth and folded it reverently. Her eyes were lucid when she stared at him.

"_I_'m sorry," Kamui retorted, his eyes holding her gaze. Whatever moment that transpired between them had passed, he knew. "I shouldn't have gone around wearing other people's things without asking for permiss-"

The growl from Kamui's stomach interrupted his apology. There was an instance of flawless silence before the ends of S.S.' lips curled upwards. Kamui blushed profusely as she chuckled.

"You probably forgot to eat while you were cleaning the place," S.S. moved her hand in a swooping gesture. "Thank you for that, by the way…"

"Ah…" Kamui bent his head, flushing abashedly. "It's nothing much…"

"I really appreciate it," S.S. said before she squatted and rummaged through the shopping bags, adding absentmindedly, "I never could bring myself to wipe away the dust…was too lazy."

She retrieved a set of clothing from the bags, yanked the labels off and passed it to the amethyst-eyed boy. "Here, you can take a shower and change into these as I prepare dinner."

Kamui rationalised his discoveries once again as he ducked his head under the spray of hot water. The treasured clothes…most likely belong to that man in the photograph, whoever he was. He must be precious to S.S. to tick her off like that…she struck Kamui an unemotional woman, not easily shaken by adversities (unless they involved that man, perhaps).

And…was she washing blood off her hands just now?

Just who _the heck_ was S.S.?

'Someone with a decent fashion sense, definitely' his mind supplied as he admired the ensemble on the mirror when he combed his hair. The girl herself gave him a look over when Kamui entered the kitchen and smiled; a part-inch quirk of the lips Kamui had noticed was a rarity. "Not many males can pull wearing soft pink off, but the colour suits you."

Kamui was decked in a slightly snug short-sleeved v-necked soft salmon shirt and knee-length white pants, both of which enhanced his complexion and flattered his lithe form without making him appear anorexic. Cheeks blushing darker than his shirt, he was about to deny the compliment when his eyeballs budged out of their sockets. "What are you doing to the onion?"

S.S. blinked at him, the hand curled around the handle of a knife frozen midair, another hand holding the shredded bulb on the chopping board; a picture of domestic bliss, with a frilly apron over her formal shirt.

"You're butchering it!" Kamui spoke in distress and reached out to grab the utensil from her. As she handed it perplexedly, he managed a look at the pot and cried out again. "Why did you boil the leafy vegetables first?"

In the end, S.S. could only sit and stare as Kamui moved about deftly, the apron over his front, cutting, peeling, stirring and adding ingredients reflexively. In less than half an hour, two plates of steaming white rice and beef stew were placed on the dining table.

For the first time after taking charge of the meal preparation, Kamui looked surprised and worried at his decision to abide by his instincts, wondering if it was a good one. "I'm not sure if it'll taste good…" he filled the silence. S.S.' gaze had turned pensive.

Nevertheless, she clasped her hands together. "_Itadakimasu_," (2) she murmured and scooped one spoonful to her mouth, chewing slowly. Eternity seemed to pass before she swallowed and smiled. "It's delicious."

The boy heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness," he took his fork and spoon. "I can't remember cooking something before…I don't know what came over me…" he confessed.

Her mismatched eyes grew distant, again. "_Karada wa oboeru yo_," she whispered, her voice sombre, "_Kokoro ga wasureru koto._" (3)

'The body remembers what the mind forgets,' Kamui understood. That statement revealed two more facts to life. S.S. was well-versed in Eleven's…and S.S. knew about his past. He opened his mouth to fire more questions, but S.S. had that look again, that look that said she had filled her quota of the day and would clam up for the rest of the night.

'That's fine,' Kamui told himself when quietness cloaked them again, neither stifling nor comfortable. He would find the truth, he vowed, in time.

TBC

(1) A cookie for those who can guess who the man in the photograph is =D

(2) Itadakimasu literally means 'I will receive.' It is sort of a short expression of gratitude Japanese say before eating their meals.

(3) Now, now, my Japanese grammar sucks. I'm sure I shouldn't have written 'ga' after 'kokoro' but I don't know what else to write. Please feel free to correct me. (In fact, my English grammar can be quite shaky at times, too. Anyone who is willing to be my beta-reader, please inform me.)


	3. Monsters

**mika**: A cookie for you! If you live in Singapore I can give it to you face-to-face. I still have parts of S.S.' past to smoothen, but your review kind of gave me a fabulous idea (that's the third thing reviews do to me. I believe stories write themselves. I can plan but normally the direction changes halfway, sometimes dramatically). I know, I know…Lelouch will probably meet the others next chapter; he needs to find the trigger to leave S.S., something that convinces him the unknown is better than staying with her.

**Long-Live-Christopher**: A cookie for you, too! Te-hee, the whole 'the person I love killed my beloved' thing is too irresistibly similar to X/1999! (Only, Suzaku gets way, way angrier than Kamui and Subaru ever can).

**La Luna Negra**: Sorry for the threat. (I'm not going to mask it. My A/N was a threat) Oh, I'm guilty of not reviewing stories I favourited/story-alerted several times, too, though I try to refrain. 'Be the change you want to be in the world', right? That shirt is the one I was talking about! There is a picture in moe dot imouto dot org of Rolo and Lelouch, the latter in that outfit.

**Nusku**: Seconded you! Sadly, I can only play dress up with 'Kamui' for a while…

**Diana Prince**: Nope, sorry…Xing Ke didn't have mismatched eyes. S.S. is an OC. Thank you for the faith and reviewing faithfully.

**SecondtoNon** and **setsuko teshiba**: Here it is! Thank you for the review. I wish you can be more explicit (like what of the story makes you want to continue reading it ^^)

Warning: Spoilers to R2

Chapter 2: Monsters

S.S. paused on her way to her bedroom from the porch. She had just come back from 'work'.

"What are you doing?" She craned her neck to look up at her houseguest and blinked.

Kamui was standing precariously on a stool next to the glass sliding doors leading to a balcony protruding above the cliff, his hand unfastening the rings around the bar above aforementioned doors. The hem of his sleeveless amethyst turtleneck – the colour matching his eyes – rode up as he reached out for the furthest ring, exposing a strip of pale taut skin above his denim. "Taking down the curtain," he answered, one eyebrow arched elegantly, his expression deadpanned. "The bottom is riddled by holes, and unexplainable stains whose origins I don't even want to think about. I want to cut off a foot and patch it with a material I found in the storeroom," he explained himself.

A few days had passed since Kamui was brought to the cottage to be…held captive. He wouldn't sugarcoat it. Isolated from the rest of the world indeterminately…Oh, it wasn't as horrible as it sounded. He was just bitter about it.

The two had settled to a routine. S.S. went to work everyday, though through the erratic working hours Kamui wagered her occupation wasn't an office job. Her inability to smile unless she meant it also crossed the service industry from the list of possibilities. While the breadwinner was out Kamui maintained the cottage and performed household chores: vacuuming, laundry, cooking…there was just nothing else to do. He would have taken up gardening as well if he could step out of the front door.

Kamui was aware he was acting like a 'househusband'. He didn't resent the activities, but he hated being cooped up in this mockery of a prison, probing S.S. for scraps of information and driving himself up the wall with speculations. He was faced by two choices everyday: the unknown or this… 'safe' haven, however temporal and suspicious, his 'warden' a dangerous, probably unstable mystery? Was this safety a trap?

Yesterday, while cleaning the rest of her closet (and avoiding the drawer and that pile of male clothing like a plague), Kamui discovered another article of eastern clothing…some sort of a ceremonial garb, the outer jacket black and the inner kimono red. The sleeves were large, thick red strings sewn to the hems, and two bells attached to the end of each sleeve. There was a pentacle embroidered to the left side of the front of the jacket, a five-pointed star of red threads against the black fabric. Its twin was sewn on the right side…or so Kamui thought until he noticed that the pentagrams were 36 degrees off, inverted versions of one another.

The costume seemed…religious. Why did S.S. have it? She always donned professional western shirts and skirts when she left the house, and Kamui couldn't imagine she was a priestess. The robe couldn't be for cosplay, right?

"I see," S.S.' voice pulled Kamui out of his musings, the sound almost drowned by the droning of the news. She had switched on the television. There was a large red dot splashed against a white rectangle in the background. "_Konnichiwa, minna-san! _Area_ juu-ichi kaiho sareta no toki kara mou sugu san nen desu!_ (Good afternoon, everyone! Three years almost pass since the liberation of area 11!)" The bubbly female newscaster gushed, "_For this joyous anniversary, our hero, Zero-sa-"_

S.S. switched off the television abruptly. "I'm going to take a shower," she declared.

"Wait!" Kamui took down the curtains and jumped down from the stool, the mass of faded fabric spilling from his arms. "Can you help me hold this while I cut the bottom off?" He spread the material and handed one end to her.

S.S. spread it and held it dutifully with both hands as Kamui retrieved a large scissor and cut through the thick woolen drapery, which emitted a sibilant song as the blade tore the seams apart. Partway through its path, the rather rusty scissor got stuck. Kamui clucked his tongue in irritation. "Come on," he sighed under his breath and exerted more pressure, "Come on-"

The twin pieces of metal clattered to the floor after the fabric gave way and Kamui stabbed S.S.' palm.

"I'm sorry!" the black-haired boy gasped, scooting to the girl as she nursed her hand, a slight wince on her face as a trail of blood flowed on her skin. Kamui looked around almost anxiously, missing the fact that she was withdrawing from him. "First aid kit…is there any first aid kit anywhere? Have you got a tetanus shot before?"

S.S. inhaled deeply and the taut lines around her lips evened out. "It's all right. I can take care of it myse-"

"Should we seek any medical assistance? The scissor is rusty after all-" he interrupted.

"Kamui-"

"For now, we should stop the blood-" Kamui grabbed the hand to inspect the wound only to find that there was no injury. The palm was unblemished, not ever a scar was left. As if the wound was never there.

Kamui swore he'd seen the crimson life essence dripping down her fingers, felt the sickening feel of pushing a blade through unyielding, squishy flesh. That type of wound wasn't one that can heal in an instance, without leaving behind scabs, let alone a mark.

Was S.S…not a human?

"Kamui-" she attempted to snatch her hand, but for once, Kamui's grip was strong. Her faint struggle alerted him to the fact that the sleeve of her dark blazer was damp. "Is your sleeve wet?" he asked and reached out to touch it.

S.S. was too thrown off by the complete non-sequitur to stop Kamui from pulling back the cloth and revealing the sleeve of her white shirt below, which was so, so red, it seemed like it had been drenched in blood.

Kamui gasped again. "What happened?" He nearly ripped the clothes in the haste to look at her upper arm. May be the trail of blood he'd seen was from there, and the palm had been unhurt after all. May be…

"Stop it!" Kamui could only catch a glimpse of her skin before S.S. yanked her limb away and cradled it close to her breasts. Her arm had been just as immaculate. Whole. There wasn't even a scratch. "It's not my blood!" she blurted unthinkingly before her hand flew to her mouth in shock, eyes wide as saucers.

'Whose, then?' The question that followed the statement hung heavily in the air, loud in the suffocating silence that shrouded them like a cloak. Kamui's amethyst eyes were equally wide as he stared back at her.

"…I'm going to take a shower," S.S. said quickly and spun on her heels, rushing out of his view.

Overwhelmed by tremors, Kamui sat down on the sofa before his knees gave away and forced himself to take deep, calming breaths. Trusting his state of mind and his eyes, he couldn't have imagined the stabbing. The scissor…if she was really wounded the scissor should have…he looked at the floor frantically, eyes darting and-

…found the damned stationary, red spots staining the dull steel and gaudy yellow plastic handles.

He'd really wounded her, and the injury was healed in seconds.

What _was_ S.S.?

A mechanised sound made Kamui's heart, which had been beating wildly under the skeletal encasement of his ribs, jump as though the organ was clawing its way out of his chest. The persistent and systematic rhythm told him that it was just the ringing of a telephone, before he doubled over and remembered _there was no telephone in the house._

He strained his ears to search for the source to find that it was very near. There was a cell phone lying on the floor between two adjacent sofas, near the path one would take to get to the bathroom. The device must have slipped out of S.S.' pocket when she ran away.

Almost as soon as Kamui located the cell, it stopped ringing. The raven-haired boy stared at the cell, his brain devising how he could use it to discover his identity, or S.S.' for that matter, when the phone beeped. "_Tadaima rushu ni_…_I am currently not available to take your call…please leave a message after the second beep."_

Gulping, Kamui picked the cell with shaking hands to listen to the message better. Kamui could hear the person at the other end of the phone clearing his throat – the voice was very low – before he began the message. "_Dieto desu. GT no sakujyo no mere ga kakunin shimashita _(_This is the Diet. The order for GT's elimination has been confirmed) but the order on you-know-who is still pending. Only eliminate him once found useless or threatening._"

The quietness left in the message's wake was bone crushing.

Kamui's pulse had fluttered like a frantic caged beast at the word 'elimination'. So S.S. was…an assassin. She must be. And 'Diet'…as in the legislative assembly? She wasn't working for a mafia, but for the government? Why was she living with him? To keep an eye on him? 'You-know-who'…was that referring to…to him? (1)

'Eliminate him once found useless or threatening.' The sentence kept echoing in his skull.

'Eliminate him once found useless or threatening.'

'Eliminate him once found-

Kamui _had to_ escape.

* * *

S.S. immersed her toe in the hot, almost scalding, pool of water before lowering herself entirely, sighing as the water relaxed her tense muscles. "It's your fault, you know," she leaned back on the mouth of the bathtub and spoke to the steaming air, "If you didn't seal his memories I could have started training him as a 'protector'. This babysitting is interfering with my duties."

C.C.'s voice filled the mismatched-eyed girl's head, sarcastic and amused. "_No, you would have your hands full just trying to catch him and hold him in place. You can't win against him. He's the type that can think of seven possibilities in a second. You're not intelligent enough in the first place._" (2)

S.S. didn't bother disagreeing with the fellow Code holder. C.C. was true – S.S. wasn't notably clever, like V.V. was. It was amusing that the inheritor of his Code was also the type to rely on his brain.

After Charles' death, his Code lingered in the World of C for a while. Technically, there wasn't a formal take-over, and the Code had been confused as to which body it shall reside in, divided over the choice of getting back to the mass of consciousness, or seeping into the boy who had murdered Charles, its most recent holder. The boy might fight it, though, and it didn't look forward to that unpleasant confrontation.

Then Lelouch vi Britannia died, and the Guardian of God decided that since even without the powers of the Code, that human had protected God capably (ulterior motives notwithstanding), so he should be made a Code holder to protect God more capably.

In the crucial seconds between his loss of consciousness and the death of the body, the Guardian had placed the Code inside him. With the soul nearly severed off the body, the mind had enough to deal with to fight the Code. Before everything settled down and Lelouch could function like a human again (albeit an immortal one), three years had passed.

S.S. retorted to the witch. "If that happens I'll just trace him through the Code. I've learned how to mask my presence. He won't be able to sense me. Then, I'll trap him in an illusion. He has enough issues and baggage to last a century of mulling over."

C.C. snorted. "_More like several centuries._"

"That's why you sealed his memories, isn't it? To relieve him off the guilt? Let him start a brand new…not-life?" S.S.' eyes turned soft. "You love him, don't you?"

C.C. was quiet for some time. "_I don't think I remember how to love someone,_" she was quick to defer after that confession, though. "_I know you don't hate babysitting him as much as you complain you do. His soul…was someone you 'know', right?_"

S.S. sighed. She would allow her lime-haired senior this slip. "He's changed."

"_Most reincarnated souls do,_" C.C. stated in boredom. S.S. imagined the witch was probably flicking her nails or twirling a lock of hair with her fingers that moment. "_I've encountered several in my lifetime._" S.S. could hear the hesitation in C.C.'s 'voice'.

"I knew what I signed up for when I received A.A.'s Code," the brown-haired girl assured the witch, thinking, 'The long, long lifetime and the suffering it brings.' S.S. shook her head and treaded her fingers through her long, long hair. "How do you find the confinement?"

"_Comfortable, thank you,_" the sentence was oozing with sarcasm. Then, C.C. added, "_It's not as bad. Better than being Clovis' lab rat, at least. I can sleep through the decades I have to serve as punishment._"

S.S. sighed and shook her head again. "That stint you and V.V. pulled…"

"_You won't understand,_" C.C. sighed in reply.

S.S.' eyes hardened as she clutched the edge of the bathtub tightly, her knuckles whitened. "You're right, I won't," she muttered darkly.

C.C. seemed to realise her mistake. "_S.S.-_"

"I have to go," S.S. interrupted her as she rose to her feet and moved to grab the towel, "I'll talk to you later."

"_I see,_" C.C. responded resignedly. "_Thank you._"

That gratitude was entirely unforeseen. S.S. smiled slightly as she dried herself, forgiving the other woman already. "No. Thank **you**."

* * *

Kamui figured that it would be better to run off tomorrow instead of tonight. He would still have to see S.S. in the morning for breakfast, and it was common sense public transport wouldn't operate at night. She would have to leave the house to 'eliminate GT' anyways. He could pack his clothes tonight and food tomorrow. He had retrieved S.S.' bank account, as well as several contacts from the cell; the device had been unexpectedly easy to decode. S.S. couldn't be very adept with technology. In any case, he would try to cash out some money (via hacking the ATM? Steal S.S.' electronic bank book?) and travel to other cities. May be he could hide in one of the unregistered Ghettos near Tokyo Settlement…

He didn't question those bits of knowledge that sprang to his mind. He hoped he was remembering things, and those terms were parts of his past.

S.S. clapped her hands right in front of his face and tilted her head, wet locks of mahogany hair spilling to her loose shirt. "What are you thinking about?"

Kamui nearly jumped out of his skin. "N-nothing much," he berated himself for the stutter. "I'm just wondering if you can help me buy a few things…" the amethyst-eyed boy hid his face from her in the pretense of scooping the soup from the pot on the stove to two porcelain bowls.

"Is it very urgent?" S.S. asked as she sat behind the dining table and continued drying her hair with the towel slung over her shoulders.

"Sort of," Kamui transferred the bowls to the table. "Our food is running out. Toiletries and detergent too. New pillows are also in order, I think…" He referred to the incident whereby S.S. found newborn termites crawling out of her pillow this morning.

The longer Kamui made S.S. stay out tomorrow, the better.

A frown graced the girl's face. She looked so young…younger than him, even. For her to be an assassin at that age…

Then again, she might not be that young. She might not even be _human_.

"I don't think I can make a trip to the convenient store tomorrow," S.S. shot him a somewhat apologetic look before she brought her palms together and said the customary _Itadakimasu._ "I will be very busy tomorrow. I may not even come home."

'I know you will be busy, with GT to exterminate,' Kamui gave her his best imploring stare and let his lips quirked to a grimace. "But we don't have any meat and soap left," he lied through his teeth and hoped S.S. hadn't been keeping track of things. Judging from her 'penchant' for disorders, she hadn't.

Her frown deepened. She hesitated before proposing her idea. "What if…I order the goods through a catalogue? I'll leave you a debit card to pay the deliverer. You'll have to wear the flu mask and an eye patch when you accept the goods, though…they're on the shelf behind the mirror above the sink…"

Kamui couldn't believe how lucky he was. His attempt to buy himself time managed to secure him a supply of cash. He beamed at her. "Thank you, S.S.! I'll hand you the list later!"

S.S. cocked an eyebrow, the spoon she was raising to her mouth stopping halfway. "…Why are you so unbelievably happy about this?"

_Crap_. Kamui feigned a laugh. "Aren't you? I'm not looking forward to sleeping on the floor." Well, that much was true. If the pillows had been turned to insects' nests, who was to say the mattresses hadn't been infiltrated as well?

S.S. shrugged. "I guess I'm used to sleeping anywhere," she lifted the utensil to her lips and started sipping the soup, also signaling the end of the conversation.

Kamui tried to ignore interpretations of that horribly revealing sentence and enjoy the meal. He wouldn't have to worry about S.S. anymore. _Tomorrow,_ he thought giddily.

* * *

"_Kochira e douzo_ (Please go this way)," the stewardess gestured at one of the hatches of the private jet. He nodded and rose to his feet, ready to take his place behind the wheelchair and pushed it forward.

The 100th Empress of Britannia smiled as the door was opened and the wind blew against her face and her long, long pale caramel locks fluttered. "I miss this scent," Nunnally turned to the masked man and smiled, "the scent of Japan."

Saviour of the world Zero nodded to the person he had been standing by for almost three years now, protecting her from ill wills, both in politics and from physical threats. Gone was the unsure, weak girl Suzaku recalled, in her place a confident young woman who carried herself well in negotiations and faced adversities unflinchingly, a quiet strength burning in compassionate lavender eyes. Her form had begun to fill out to beautiful curves, and one of these days Zero was sure he would be fending off suitors as well.

Sometimes, looking at Nunnally hurt because she resembled Euphemia too much.

"Zero?" Nunnally touched his gloved hand when he was engrossed in agonizing reminisces. Suzaku blinked and berated himself before bowing his head. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty."

Suzaku hadn't been looking forward to visiting Japan. Even though the land had been his hometown, too many tragedies had occurred here, too much blood shed, his precious lost. He couldn't look at a place and not see the glaring absence, the ghosts of his past…

"It's all right," Nunnally faced the front again. "I know it can be painful…to be here."

In the three years of his service, he had never revealed himself to anyone, including Nunnally, though he had his suspicions that the Empress might know that Zero was Kururugi Suzaku. However, Nunnally never asked, so he would not do anything.

Kururugi Suzaku was dead three years and two months ago, anyways.

"Zero," Cornelia li Britannia nodded at the masked, caped figure. "Your Majesty. Please proceed." The proud and strong magenta-haired princess and Schneizel el Britannia were to escort the Empress to the celebration of Japan's third Independence Day. That was only fair because the two royalties were involved in the conflicts in Area 11, and their attendance would convey to the world that they acknowledged Japan's sovereignty.

Sometimes, Suzaku caught Cornelia looking at Nunnally the same way she did with Euphemia, the older princess' gaze filled with love and affection, only to be clouded with regret and guilt seconds later.

He knew the emotions too well.

Cornelia, Schneizel, Nunnally and Zero walked down the slope prepared for them to be greeted by Ohgi Kaname, the youngest Prime Minister of Japan in history, his wife, former Baroness of Britannia Ohgi-Nu Viletta, and re-instated General (newly-appointed Minister of Defence simultaneously) Toudou Kyoshiro. There were several soldiers stationed along the red carpet as well.

"Good evening, Your Majesty," the humble Japanese bowed to the girl on the wheelchair, "Your Highnesses, Zero-_sama_." Other Japanese followed after Nunnally bowed as deeply as she could. "On behalf of everyone in the nation, we would like to thank you for taking your time to visit Japan for her third Independence Day." He smiled brightly.

"Oh, no, Ohgi-san, I am glad to be here," Nunnally smiled in return, "Congratulations for the complete re-establishment of the government too. I thank the interim as well, for working very graciously with Britannia…" (3)

"Thank you very much," Ohgi replied politely, "Britannia had been helping the interim a lot; I think we shouldn't overlook that."

Before the two leaders could engage in a 'thank-you-no-thank-you' banter, Viletta steered the conversation. "Your Majesty, Your Highnesses and Zero-_sama_," she stepped closer to the guests, "We have prepared your accommodations. I am sure you are tired from the long journey, not to mention the jetlag…" she led them traversing through airport to the limousines prepared for the diplomats.

There was no meeting that night; it was late, after all. Cornelia and Schneizel retreated to their hotel rooms while Zero helped Nunnally settle down. He had tucked the teenager to her bed and was about to leave when the Empress whispered. "Zero?"

The masked figure stopped, but didn't turn his head around.

"I'd like to visit my brother's grave…" her voice was brittle, as though she was holding back tears. "I-it's…the third anniversary of his death, too."

An image flashed before Suzaku's eyes, a memory of pale, flushed, naked limbs on his arm and shoulder, raven locks splayed against the sheets, amethyst eyes gazing at him raptly, swirling, conflicting emotions he couldn't recognise threatening to spill to those quavering long lashes.

Fingertips touched the side of his face, tenderly. Suzaku watched as swollen luscious lips moved soundlessly, as though in slow motion.

"_I have always loved you._"

'I thought you hated me,' he remembered replying. Those eyes stared and stared still until the Emperor laughed maniacally, the action making his entire being shudder and clench the part of Suzaku that was still inside of him. Suzaku gasped before the hands that were previously covering their owner's face reached for him and pulled him downward for a burning kiss that marked the start of another rabid fucking.

Another reminder that made visiting Japan upsetting…Tokyo was the place he snubbed the life of his first best friend.

Nunnally had been the one to suggest that Lelouch be buried in Japan instead of in Britannia. Though a Britannian, he lived almost half his life in the land of the rising sun, fought for this country in his last two years of life (ulterior motives notwithstanding), he hated Britannia with such vehemence…and Nunnally dared say he had been happy in Tokyo as he had been in Aries Imperial Villa.

Suzaku agreed with Nunnally because burying Lelouch in Aries Imperial Villa implied some clinging to the past. It went against Lelouch's choice, 'tomorrow' over 'yesterday'. Besides, after that horrible truth about Marianne was unveiled in the World of C, Suzaku didn't think he would want to lie at the house of his childhood forever.

So the 99th Emperor had been buried in the graveyard near the Kururugi Shrine instead, under a commonplace, unmarked tombstone. Suzaku's mockery of a grave had been thoroughly slandered after Lelouch's death, and Nunnally didn't want people to defile and trample upon her brother's resting place (or worse yet, dig out the bones and dispose them). The only people who knew the location was Nunnally, Suzaku, and Jeremiah Gottwald, who had been in charge of the funeral rites. Lelouch had been clothed in a brown jacket, black turtleneck and jeans – the ensemble he often wore back 'home'. He was casketed as Lelouch Lamperouge, not as a student of Ashford Academy, not the eleventh Prince, not the _Maou_ and certainly not Zero.

Just him.

That was when the loss hit Suzaku hard.

'I had been blind,' he lamented as Zero gave the Empress a rather stiff nod. "I will arrange it for you," he promised. The irony of that day: destruction for re-construction, one sacrifice for peace. _Unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone. But if it dies, it produces a lot of grain. _(4)

'I forgot,' Zero exited Nunnally's room, flicking the switch off before closing the door softly and nodding to the two security guards stationed outside. 'I forgot that before the tragedies…' (_betrayalkilledEuphiehurtsGeass'survive!'_)

…he loved Lelouch, too.

_That's why it hurt, hurt so much._

"Zero-_sama_," Ohgi, Viletta and Toudou intercepted him before he could enter his hotel room. The three shared a hesitant look when Zero gave them his full attention. They reached a silent consensus, and Toudou stepped forward. "Zero-_sama_, I would like you to meet…someone tomorrow evening."

Suzaku frowned underneath the mask. "Who?" the tone in which his former teacher said the word 'someone' was not comforting.

"An…addition to the Ministry of Defence," Toudou answered after shooting Ohgi and Viletta another look. "An important person who'd…like to re-offer…her services. We think you might want to meet her, because she's related to…Japan's security."

"Who?" the masked figure pressed. Though Zero originated in Japan and liberated Area 11 first, Zero should have been a neutral, global political icon. He shouldn't have any say in whoever Japan's Minister of Defence wanted in his department. _Unless…this person could shake the precarious peace he'd lost so much for. _

Toudou's lips were pressed to a thin line. A suffocating silence enveloped the quartet for a while before Ohgi broke under the pressure. "Just say it!" the man hissed at his subordinate and frowned. "She's…the Sakurazukamori."

TBC

(1) No, Lelouch, You-know-who's Voldemort -_- (Sorry, can't resist;;)

(2) Everytime the conversation is carried in Japanese, I will start the sentence with Japanese. Though I end with English, the things in italic are supposed to be spoken in Japanese. (Likewise, If I don't start the sentences with Japanese e.g. C.C.'s talk with S.S., they're not Japanese.)

(3) What made the third Independence Day very important is also because it's the first year the re-established government will commence (before that, the interim was in charge of things). I can't imagine re-establishing the politics after being a colony easy (but is 3 years too long a time? What do you think?)

(4) John 12:24. The references between Lelouch and Messiah are too glaring.


	4. Out of the frying pan

**setsuko teshiba**: Yes, I notice readers may get restless for the lack of suzalulu goodness so I provided a teaser. Thank you for the review.

**SoundsRight**: Thank you for the review, fave and story-alert. Though, to be honest, this story is…different from other amnesiac reborn Lelouch stories…because it's going to involve a bit of X/1999…I think you may like 'The Ghost in the Machine'.

**WynterRavenheart**: I can only give you half a cookie…because only one of the guesses is correct. (Sei didn't have one green eye…and he only looked sad when he's acting)

**Poisoned-Inkwell**: Don't worry, he will (otherwise it's hard to have SuzaLulu).

**Mkad07, Sakura-no-Tamashi, HyperSilver, DuziInuChick, DarkAngel010, Lady of the Air, deksab, nefozyne, november11, bibixiaobaobei, sun-sun kat, BlackAngelBlood, FoenFyre, Djay, Eevetta, DarkKitsune18, Korikoto, ARandomWeirdo, frogmage, MysticMaiden 18, Azalie-Kauriu, Kailyssia, Alexandria Jaganshi, shauniBGE, darkshadowarchfiend, Star Jinin, mystic luna mage, InMyEyesForever, Sayoko's-fire, SilentTears07**: Thank you for the story-alert/fave! I will really, really appreciate it if you also tell me why you chose to(I'm sure you have at least a reason).

**Et All**: Thank you for the reviews!

A/N: This chapter was SO HARD TO WRITE! Because it's just an interlude…but it's important for the next stage to happen…

A/N2: This chapter very nearly never saw the light of the day…BUT!! Now that exams are over I can write fanfiction everyday!! I'm really sorry for the lateness of the update!

* * *

**Chapter 3: Out of the frying pan **

"You will wait here," the princess ordered her knight.

The dark-haired Britannian looked like he was about to object. "Your Highness-"

"Guilford," Cornelia li Britannia warned the man. After the liberation of Area 11, he remained with her, a 'knight' in name. Though crippled, he was still a capable protector, and his devotion to her was unparalleled. The magenta-haired woman's stern stare softened. "I'd like to think I have enough skills to protect myself from a tomb raider," she attempted a joke.

Creases were formed between the somber war veteran's brows. "My Princess-"

"Guilford," Cornelia repeated, fondness underlying her tone, "I'm going to be all right." She smiled softly.

Guilford obeyed, albeit grudgingly, and commanded the small group of personal Britannian army they'd brought from the mainland to stay put. "Thank you," Cornelia stated, brisk and authoritative again, "I'll be back soon." She turned on her heels and started climbing the stairs to the Kururugi Shrine.

Back in the new Britannia's capital, Cornelia, who had gotten closer to Nunnally after her ascension to the throne, had begged the location of Lelouch's grave off his little sister. Euphemia's older sister needed to see him again, a closure of sorts. Cornelia might not be able to forgive her half-brother, still, but she needed to get to terms with the tragedy, and move on. Currently she was dwelling in the loss too much, and it wasn't healthy for her, or her kingdom. The former Second Princess had duties to fulfill, and she shouldn't let the ghost of Euphemia's murderer distract her.

Nunnally had given her half-sister a thorough, searching stare that discomforted Cornelia not for the scrutiny itself, but for the resemblance to Euphemia's gaze (_they have the same eyes, those two, the same compassion and kindness shining in lavender irises_), but the magenta-haired woman stared back unflinchingly, honestly, before Nunnally granted her Regent's wish.

The chestnut-coloured Empress had warned Cornelia that Lelouch's grave by the oak tree in the yard was nondescript, the tombstone indistinctive. There was no name etched on the smooth cuboid rock, no engravings, no nothing, and Cornelia could feel let down because it might not be what she expected. Though slightly disappointed, the woman ensured the younger female that was fine. After arriving in Japan, Cornelia snuck out of the hotel when others thought she'd adjourned to prepare herself for a string of meetings and public appearances in the very near future, and steeled herself for the 'encounter' with Lelouch.

With a bouquet of flowers in her hand – the types she remembered from visits to Aries Imperial Villa – Cornelia opened the wooden gate to the traditional cemetery, which looked unkempt, clumps of weeds growing out of place, and traced her steps, left…right on the first turn…right again…she thought of what she wanted to say to him, the things she might scream at him…taking a deep, deep breath, and looked up…

To find the supposed mound of soil dug out. What could be the lid of a coffin was laid near the gaping hole. Cornelia blinked profusely, jaw hanging open, and approached the grave, the flowers dropped to the ground and forgotten as she bent over to see, and sure enough, there was an empty coffin, insects and creepy crawlies already settling on the silky lining of the fine wood.

Overwrought with shock, the princess had a hundred and one possibilities flitting across her head. Someone had stolen Lelouch's body with the aim of defiling the corpse (_Nunnally would be sad-_)…no, the chances were slim. Only a handful of people knew that the body of the _Maou_ was laid here. Were the culprits your regular tomb raiders, then? Cornelia stood up and looked around. Some graves appeared really neglected, but Lelouch's was the only one where the earth had been gorged out. The latter was equally unlikely.

May be Lelouch was revived, and walked out of his own grave. If something absurd like 'Geass' could exist, may be…

No, she wouldn't go there.

Then, there was the issue of who Cornelia must inform. She couldn't share this with her soldiers. The grave keepers would surely be asleep at this ungodly hour; from the poorly maintained conditions of the graves it didn't seem they attended to this place regularly and if she raised the fact that a member of the Britannian Royal Family visited such an obscure cemetery, others would discover that the 99th Emperor of Britannia had been buried here and trample the whole establishment.

But Cornelia couldn't not do anything, could she?

Seconds ticked away as Cornelia raked her brain. She couldn't spend too much time there, else Guilford would follow her, and she promised Nunnally she wouldn't share this secret to anyone. She could only investigate this later. By herself.

The search was going to be delayed, obviously, with the hullabaloos of Japan's independence and her unceasing responsibilities, but Cornelia had never viewed any matter impossible. Her resolve steeled, the magenta-haired royalty turned around, the dark maroon fabric of her cape billowing in a gust of chilling wind.

Summer was ending.

* * *

"Remember to wear the flu mask and the eye patch. Dress as a woman if you have to. Disguise-"

"Yes, yes, S.S.," Kamui pushed his reluctant custodian out of the porch, thinking, 'your clothes can't fit me, and my voice is too deep to be a woman's' at the last suggestion. "Aren't you in a hurry?"

"This is important!" S.S. turned to him and huffed, strands of hair coming loose from her hastily-done braid. She would have to redo it later. "You have the debit card I gave you, right?"

Kamui lifted the palm-sized, flimsy navy blue plastic sheet in his fingers. "Your account number's 1-8051-9 and the password is EF25X7. I got them."

It was one of the rare few times he could step out of the door, just a little. He reveled in the cool sea breeze blowing against his face, the taste of salt on his tongue. Breath-taking amalgamation of gold, crimson, vermillion and violet silhouetted her figure as S.S. stared at him, the perfect globe of the sun rising at the horizon behind her, parting the azure rippling sea by a path cast in amber rays. "Please be safe," she whispered. There was concern shining in S.S.' eyes, worry for him and for a split second Kamui felt guilty for planning his escape.

Only for a split second, though.

Because even if S.S. might be reluctant to kill him, whatever attachment she felt towards him that he could make use of, Kamui imagined she wouldn't have a choice once the government ordered her to.

"I will," Kamui replied with a reassuring smile and sent her off. "_Iterasai._"

She gave him one of her rare smiles and nodded. "_Itekimasu_." (1)

The amethyst-eyed boy watched as she slipped into the car and waved at her. She shooed him to get inside. '_Sayonara, S.S.,_' he thought as the car was started and disappeared from his view. (2)

* * *

Kamui treaded the cobbled pathway carefully, a medium-sized bag slung over his torso. He'd packed the sandwiches he'd prepared, readily-eaten food (breads, vegetables, sausages, fruits), a piece of blanket and almost all his clothes (S.S. only got him summer ones, and he didn't ask), even one of S.S.' largest skirts and a ruffled shirt if he really needed to disguise himself as a member of the fairer sex.

Truth be told, Kamui was both anxious and excited to leave. He'd been a frog in the well, eager to learn the vast world outside yet afraid of his own ignorance…and in his case, his former enemies and the circumstances that forced him to the burial. Logic dictated he should discover more of himself before fleeing, but time (_and his fear of S.S.)_ was working against him.

After seeing cottages similar to his own, equally abandoned along the wide stretch of white-sandy beach, Kamui came to the conclusion that perhaps this area used to be a resort, of sorts. There was a town nearby, with shops promoting local specialties, but judging from the lack of skyscrapers, this civilisation couldn't be a huge one.

The amethyst-eyed boy entered the streets of the city aversely after ensuring that his flu mask and eye patch were fastened correctly and covered his face. Some bystanders stopped and gave him suspicious looks, but Kamui was quick to act sickly. His pale pallor added to his advantage. It helped that he chose to wear long-sleeved white t-shirt that botched his complexion but secured his pretense. He'd also bandaged his right hand to hide the strange tattoo away from view. Some secrets societies could be scarily huge, and he didn't want anyone recognising the sigil.

As soon as he saw an ATM, he withdrew as much money as he could carry. His locations could be tracked if he conducted electronic transactions, so he intended to pay for his accommodations, transport and food by cash. There was a withdrawing limit, however, though Kamui was pretty surprised to see the number of zeros in S.S.' bank account. She was extremely loaded. (Well, assassins generally were).

From there Kamui weighed his options. To get to Tokyo, he could take public transport or taxi. The latter would be faster and minimise his interactions with Elevens, but also way, way more expensive, not to mention the crucial fact that Kamui had absolutely no idea where in Area Eleven he was – for all he knew he could be in Sapporo – and how far his destination was. He would have to risk spending hours with commuters on the bus or the train.

Then there was the matter of finding the station. The town was small enough Kamui supposed he could walk around and search for a railway or a bus stop, but that would waste more precious time, yet he was wary of asking the police for directions. His Eleven was rusty, tinged by thick Britannian accent, and once others discovered his allegedly mixed heritage, would he be singled out? The settlement didn't seem like one ruled by Britannians, yet it looked too nice to be a ghetto…

"_Asoko no ojou-chan_ (Missy)!" As Kamui was lost in his thoughts, an elderly woman approached him. The amethyst-eyed boy's first reflex was to cower, unused to human contact (S.S. _wasn't_ a human), but the granny had an amiable smile on her lined face, her dark eyes gazing at him with warmth. "_I haven't seen you around much. New here?_" she asked, her voice brittle as creaking wooden planks that threaten to give way under a person's weight, yet pleasant and so, so maternal.

Kamui was struck speechless. He could practically see his voice waving him bon voyage at the horizon, being called a girl notwithstanding. Should he talk? Should he flee?

The elderly woman took in the sight of this delicate long-haired beauty's bandages, the eye-patch, and the scrawny form, the skin stretched over one visible collarbone. She misinterpreted Kamui's silence. Pity flashed across the black beads of her irises and the curl of her smile diminished. "_It's okay if you can't answer me. A lot of people retire to Zushi (3) because the air's good for health."_

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Kamui went along with her misconceptions. If the granny thought he was mute and ailing (and a girl), he wasn't going to correct her. Instead, he processed the information, the name of the city, carefully.

"_I recommend you to go to the beach. The sea's relaxing._" Next, the woman attempted to be the helpful tour guide,"_Zushi used to be a popular beach resort._" Pride laced the words, radiant in the lack of humility. "_A lot of brilliant writers had lived here in the past._" Melancholy tainted the raw love for this place. The phrase, 'before Britannia trampled Japan' was loud in the silence.

The granny brightened just as Kamui was contemplating whether he should console this bizarre stranger or not. She rummaged through the large brown bag she was carrying, retrieving a piece of paper and a pen before she smiled at him. "_That was rude of me not to introduce myself. My name is Isaka Yui. Hajimemashite _(Nice to meet you)." She bowed slightly.

Kamui made a quick decision. The granny didn't seem like one who wished him harm, though her motive was unknown. Wiping any trace of suspicion away from his expression, he played the docile girl, bowing before taking the stationary offered and wrote, '_Sa-ku-ra-zu-ka Ru-mi-ko, ha-ji-me-ma-shi-te,_' in hiragana. In his exile, Kamui had managed to teach himself some Eleven's characters from S.S' books, but his vocabulary was limited.

The boy watched the pity grow in Yui's gaze, and let her think he didn't get to go to school, a fate Kamui was sure had befallen many Eleven children.

"_Well, Rumiko-chan!_" The name he cooked out of nowhere didn't sound as strange as the name S.S. gave him. "_I can guide you around the town: the good restaurants, the spa-houses…where would you like to go?_"

Kamui scribbled on the paper. "_E-ki _(train station)."

"_Eki?_" Yui seemed genuinely surprised, "_You have just moved in Zushi, right? Leaving so soon?_"

Kamui bit his tongue to prevent himself from swearing when the pen poked a hole through the paper in his haste to reply. The flat of his left palm wasn't as flat as he would have liked, and the edges of the bandages around his right hand dug to his skin, making it harder for his fingers to clutch the pen. Screw sentences. "_Byou-in _(hospital)," was the only word he ended up with, utilising Yui's misunderstanding for his own gains. Besides, a small town like this one wouldn't have a hospital with state-of-the-art technology, which perfected his excuse to travel to a larger city.

Understanding sunk into the woman, intensifying her sympathy for him. "_I see…you want a medical check-up. Yokohama has several reputed hospitals and the city is Zushi's neighbour…_"

Kamui shook his head, causing several long strands of dark hair to stray to his uncovered eye. He tossed his head to dislodge the lock and penned one of the few Eleven characters he memorised. "_Tokyo._"

"_You already have a hospital in mind, is it?_"

Kamui nodded.

"_Very well,_" Yui turned and took a few steady steps, despite the quivers of the knobby knees below the bell of her lavender skirt and the swell of her apron. Yui smelled of kitchen, of artificial pine of disinfectants; Kamui imagined she must had been a devoted Eleven housewife her whole life. "_This way, please._" She led him, and he followed.

He smirked inwardly when the scenario he'd speculated, he'd _manipulated_ to occur did happen. It was surprisingly easy. Too easy. S.S. had been different; harder to comprehend, harder to predict, harder to steer to a direction (plus he was scared _shitless_ she would kill him once she discovered he'd fooled her).

Kamui found that he liked this change, liked to be in control, to be able to maneuver someone.

The train station wasn't far; everything seemed to be within walking distance in Zushi. Yui even helped him buy the ticket, thereby minimising more human interaction. "_Here,_" the elderly woman passed him a nondescript slip of white paper with some Eleven characters written on it. "_We'll go by the Yokosuka Line._"

Kamui's eyebrows rose to his hairline, suspicions mounting at the pronoun. He grabbed the end of the elderly woman's shirt and pointed at her, then himself, mouth hanging open. '_We?_' the question was clear from the gesture.

The granny's eyes turned softer. Warm, wrinkled hand reached out to caress the long-haired youth's cheek. "_You're such a delicate flower. Tokyo is such a big city. I'm so afraid for you,_" her voice held all the right emotions, but Kamui wasn't convinced. He made to write on the paper when he was stopped. "_You might think you're familiar with the big city, but please humour the old lady, won't you?_"

That was how Kamui ended up boarding the express train with the stranger, his butt perched almost at the end of his seat and his spine tense as he listened to the elderly woman's prattling of her life, what her husband and her sons used to do (before Britannia took everything away and painted Area 11 red). Spies and agents could take on all sorts of disguises, and the more believable they seemed, the more skillful in the art of deceiving others they were. His mind was working at a mile a minute; how exactly could he get rid of her? His lack of knowledge of his own identity, ergo who his enemies might be and who could be monitoring him, were driving him insane; he couldn't trust anyone.

A few hours almost passed in a blink that way. The odd pair of travelers got off the train at Tokyo Station, pausing in the middle of the platform, near the escalator. The place was extremely packed; there were students and office workers milling in and out of trains, transferring from one line to another, rushing to get to work or school. The station itself has close to ten lines intersecting at the multi-leveled building, colours crossing and running parallel on screens.

"_Rumiko-chan,_" Kamui took care to respond to the fake name (not that 'Kamui' was the name he was bestowed with at birth). "_Which line are you transferring to?_"

Panicked at having his bluff discovered – he sure as hell had no idea where any one of the hospitals in Tokyo was located - Kamui quickly scribbled an answer. '_You can leave me here. I'm okay. Thank you very much.'_

"_Rumiko-chan, we've gone through this…_" the lady's sigh was drowned by the sound of a train arriving at the platform nearest to them. As soon as the doors slid open, hordes of commuters flooded out of the vehicles, a sea of human beings. A tall bespectacled young man, most likely a college student, was holding on to piles of textbooks and files, a cup of takeaway coffee wedged between his chin and his bundle. Distracted by his precariously balanced belongings, he stumbled as he was pushed forward by the crowd behind him.

Kamui turned instinctively when something collided against his back and watched the falling Styrofoam cup almost blankly, stunned by the swift turns of events and misled by the lack of depth perception covering one eye had done to him. He didn't move away fast enough.

His mask and eye patch protected his face from the brunt of the hot liquid, but weren't spared, the materials thoroughly soaked.

"_Rumiko-chan!_" The elderly woman exclaimed in shock, while the student got up and apologized at the girl he'd dumped his coffee on, offering his handkerchief to wipe her face. "_Take them off-_" Yui pulled the mask and the eye patch off so swiftly Kamui couldn't even shake his head.

Everyone on the platform came to a halt when granny screamed. Gone was the warmth and concern on her face, replaced by fear. Kamui turned around in puzzlement to have the college student dropping the hankie, eyes widening, then backing away quickly.

"_What's going on?_" Kamui stood up slowly and asked in his best Eleven language, the disclosure of his lies be damned. As seconds ticked away, every commuter took a step away from him, leaving an open space a radius of 2 meters around him. "_Minna (everyone)?"_

The frozen stillness was finally broken by an anguished cry. "_HE'S THE MAOU (4)!_" The initiator was a middle-aged Eleven in a white shirt, dark pants and blue tie with a wild look on his beady eyes. "_HE KILLED MY SON! KILL HIM!!_"

'Demon Emperor? Me?' Kamui took a step backwards, his heart pulsing a mile a minute beneath his ribcage, as his eyes darted for an escape. 'What does it mean? Am I not a human, either? What have I done wrong?' he thought frantically.

The emotional accusation worked as a switch. The next moment, every frightened look was replaced by fury and bloodlust as the crowd closed in around Kamui. The amethyst-eyed teenager tried to escape but when he clearly could not, he dropped to his knees and protected his head with his arms as civilized human beings tore at him like vultures to a dead meat.

Through the haze of murderous shrieks and malicious intent, Kamui thought he heard the shrill high-pitched sound of a whistle and saw uniformed figures trying to shove the crowd away from him, and he knew no more.

TBC

(1) Itekimasu: I'm going. Iterasai: be safe in your journey…or something like that. Like itadakimasu, they're commonly used expressions.

(2) Sayonara: good bye. The word has a weight. It's not 'Ja, ne' or 'mata' (meaning: 'see you') which implies that they will see each other again. Sayonara is…a farewell for good.

(3) Zushi, Kanagawa. More information from en. wikipedia. org/ wiki / Zushi or www. .kanagawa. jp/ top / foreignlanguage / (remove all spaces)

(4) Maou: Demon King, Demon Emperor, Warlock, etc.

Continuation of Replies to Reviews:

**La Luna Negra**: That was because I spent Good Friday writing the update. (I went to church properly, though! Being a Christian yaoi writer is a conflict of mine…). Normally I have work, so I can't update as quickly. Don't take it as my losing enthusiasm over the story. Thank you so much for the review.

The phrase was 'liberation of Area 11'. The newscaster meant it has been almost 3 years since Area 11 was liberated and reclaimed her former name 'Japan'. I don't want the newscaster to say the word 'Japan' because I want Lelouch to think Japan's still 'Area 11' (and he will piss a lot of people later on due to this misconception). May be the sentence hadn't been constructed well enough? Is there a way I can make my meaning clearer?

**Luna Moonsurf**: Uuh…I don't think anything sugary is good for you now. How about sushi? No, no, the review for chapter 1 wasn't wasted at all! I like knowing your thought processes as you read the story. You're one of the few who catch all the X/1999 references I'd like to come across. S.S. can't be Subaru because I'm not evil enough to let him live forever. Yes, I notice that too (the 12th to 14th Sakurazukamori have the same initials) but S.S.' initial isn't S.S., actually. She must have killed Subaru to inherit the position, right? You got that right. Though called 'Kamui', Lelouch is still Lelouch. Kamui isn't…ehem…that…smart… *ducked from the claw and the energy ball* Eep! I love domestic, househusband Lelouch! Don't you, too? I did write 'Warning: Spoilers to R2', right? Was it not noticeable enough? I'm sorry then…A lot of the things are my own speculations, though…so there's hope! Thanks for the super LONG reviews XD!


	5. Into the fire

A/N: I know I most probably have no right to complain, given how late the last update was, but the trend of readers putting AmeSoul to story alert and/or fave story without bothering to tell me why they did has superseded the number of reviews (for this chapter) altogether, and I do admit I'm a review-whore. I won't not update or anything…but happy writers give rise to happy readers, in my case (if you catch my hint…?)

Special thanks to: **TheLadyPendragon, Nusku, Liz Yeriod, MithLuin, iceley11**

**Chapter ****4: Into the fire**

"_What_?" the superintendent of Foreign Affairs Division of Security Bureau of the National Police Agency (1) of Japan barked at his mobile phone.

Mistaking the exclamation of shock as a request to repeat the report (there was so much background noises at the other end of the line after all. The young police inspector admired his boss for the hard work he put for the visiting royalties of Britannia), he was replied, "_Sir, we have found someone who closely resembles the late Emperor Lelouch vi Britannia at Tokyo Station, 917 a.m. today. He is being detained in Tokyo Metropolitan Police Office right now_."

The superintendent could feel the beginning of a pounding headache forming behind his eyeballs. Damn the low, low headcount after the devastating war which allowed stupid, stupid people be his subordinates and cut down NPA's former hierarchical structure severely. He was seriously busy with final stages of preparing the execution of plans regarding Japan's third Independence Day celebrations. Damn that superintendent of Public Safety for skiving off work today!

He took a deep, deep breath.

"_ARE YOU STUPID OR WHAT_?" the scream made the young police officer's ear ring painfully. The subordinate stretched his arm and held the receiver of the phone as far away from his abused organ as possible. "_DETAINED JUST BECAUSE HE RESEMBLES THE LATE DEMON EMPEROR? WHAT DO YOU WANT NPA TO BE KNOWN AS_?"

Perhaps, it was inevitable that Princess Cornelia li Britannia happened to be in the vicinity of the stressed civil servant, foreseeing the safety of one of the venues for her half-sister's public appearances (Schneizel, Guilford and the rest were in charge of other places, while Zero and Toudou prepared for a meeting with a mysterious, important person the two were so tight-lipped about). The word 'Maou' stood out amidst a string of loud, quickly-spoken Japanese, latching on her hearing.

The superintendent sighed, his steam lost. "_Get his id number and release him,_" he finally ordered.

"…_He has no id,_" the subordinate remarked reluctantly. "_He claims that his name is Sakurazuka Kamui, but there is no such person in our national registry, and all citizens were supposed to have registered themselves within one year of the start of the interim government. He doesn't seem to have a foreign passport either. I thought he may be an illegal immigrant… _"

Well. It was good to know his subordinate wasn't as idiotic as he'd dreaded. "_Get as much information from him as you can. I'll get there soon._" The superintendent put down the phone as soon as he heard, "_Yes, Sir!_" from the other end and sighed again.

"Everything all right, mister?" Cornelia attempted to know more of the situation.

The middle-aged Japanese man froze and stuttered his reply nervously. "O-o of C-co-course, Your Highness!" He gave a very deep bow. "N-no-nothing is out of place!"

"That's good to hear," the Regent of Britannia's 100th Empress tried to use a coaxing tone, which didn't come as easily to her. She was used to dishing out directive commands – perhaps too used to – but Nunnally's gentle leadership really made her see that she would get further with persuasions and praises. They were required more, especially in times of peace. It's about winning through relationships forged, not brute force. "I heard you mention something about…the late 99th Emperor…could you share with me what happened?"

Augh, crap. Now the royalties of Britannia would know how inane and impulsive NPA could be and refuse to entrust their safety in its hands. "No-nothing much, Your Highness," the superintendent hated how words stumbled out of his mouth. He needed to be confident for this. "My subordinate found a young man who does not possess any form of foreign and/or Japanese identification. He happens to resemble the late Emperor Lelouch vi Britannia," something in the princess' expression changed when the name of her half brother was spoken. The superintendent was ill at ease with the darkness that flitted through those lavender irises. "He's currently being questioned at Tokyo Metropolitan Police Office at Marunouchi." (2)

Cornelia didn't expect the answer to the puzzle she'd encountered a few nights ago to come across her very quickly. This could be nothing and everything. She just had to see. "Thank you," she smiled at the Japanese.

* * *

Kamui tucked his folded legs beneath himself, his arms curling around his knees as he huddled at the corner of the small cubicle he was detained in, his head bowed to hide from the uncomfortable glances the policemen and women beyond the bars at the basement office threw him, followed by murmurs of _'Really looks like the Demon Emperor,'_ and _'Cold-blooded murderer'_.

When he had been thrown inside, Kamui had grabbed the bars and pleaded with the police officers, his amethyst eyes bright. _"It's a case of mistaken identity! Please release me!" _Then he was asked to procure an identity card, and Kamui could only take a sharp breath. His plans had thoroughly backfired. His only way out of this place might be S.S., but then she would know that he'd tried to escape from her and eliminate him immediately.

He had to get out of here. By hook or by crook.

The middle-aged worker who had initiated the ruckus at Tokyo Station was being held next to him, livid, accusatory stare dripping with concentrated, putrid loathing glaring holes on Kamui's side. _"How can you live with yourself?"_ He spat at him and hissed, _"With all the blood on your hands!"_

Kamui flinched. Stressed out with his captivity (he'd tried asking to go to the toilet but he couldn't unlock the handcuff and he didn't manage to memorise enough floor plans to conclude the entirety of the blueprint of the building and devise his route), Kamui retorted, irate, "_I've never killed anyone in my whole life. _(What Kamui doesn't remember _didn't happen_ in his mind). _I know I'm probably half-Britannian or something, but just because Area 11 is under Britannia's reign doesn't mean-"_

The anger in the man's dark irises blazed, malice multiplied tenfold as he gritted his teeth, and Kamui blanched. Somehow, the younger male had said something wrong. He hurried to apologize. _"I-"_

His voice was drowned by the tinkling of keys. Kamui turned around, relieved at what the sound implied, but his smile froze at the even uglier expression on the face of the kind police inspector who'd gently put him into the cell, and the open abhorrence on the faces of the subordinates who followed him into the cell, cornering the detainee even further.

"_Figures that Japan's still Area 11 to you, isn't it?" _The civil servant snarled at the thin boy and pulled him by his long hair. Kamui opened his mouth to speak, defend himself – _He didn't know that Area 11 has re-attained her rightful name_ – only to have a large calloused palm backhanding him on the face. His tormentor's lips curled to a smirk. _"We'll have so much fun during your interrogation."_

* * *

Any self-respecting member of Kyoto Aristocracies (and even scorned ones like Suzaku) knew about the Sakurazukamori: Japan's own bogeyman, the shadow assassin who abused _onmyōdō _(3) to abolish those who threatened Japan. The blood feud between the clan his cousin Kaguya belonged to, the Sumeragi, and the Sakurazukamori originated quite possibly in the Heian era. Kaguya and Suzaku had been forced to sit in lengthy lessons about the history of their abundant, often related (Aristocracies always marry one another. Suzaku and Kaguya were betrothed, too) Clan Heads but Kaguya had been good at playing hide-and-seek, pulling Suzaku along with her when she was feeling merciful. Even when he couldn't flee, Suzaku was always thinking about kendo practices with Toudou-_sensei_ when the history teacher prattled on. Consequently, Suzaku didn't remember much about those long-dead figures.

Well. That was not very true. There was one Sumeragi Clan Head Suzaku remembered almost clearly. The thirteenth _Toushu_, Sumeragi Subaru, who had created such havoc when he _fraternised with the enemy_ (that was the word the teacher used, quoted verbatim) and became the fourteenth Sakurazukamori. Kaguya's face had flushed red then, indignant at such shamelessness. What crossed Suzaku's mind at that time were hardly appropriate, though; he thought Kaguya should be grateful of Subaru-san's _betrayal_ (again, the teacher's word) because it enabled Sumeragi Takahashi, Kaguya's father, to be the fourteenth Sumeragi _Toushu_, and Suzaku just realised how little he actually knew of the Sakurazukamori. How did Subaru-san actually become one? Did he marry into the Sakurazuka clan? How could an outsider be a Sakurazuka _Toushu_? Little and naive as he was, Suzaku voiced some of his questions, and got thoroughly scolded.

Anyways, back to Suzaku's impressions of the Sakurazukamori. Raised in a shrine, Suzaku accepted that supernatural powers do exist even way, way before he got tangled in the nasty business that was Geass. Kaguya has no magical prowess, but her late father did, and Suzaku had had the chance of witnessing an exorcism, once. He believed the priestesses in the shrine when they told him that the Sakurazukamori would murder badly behaved children. Consequently, even over a decade later, after he'd supposedly become the strongest man in Britannia, Suzaku wasn't surprised that he was actually scared to meet the star antagonist of his bedtime stories.

"Zero-_sama_," a female junior civil servant of the Diet greeted him from outside the door to his hotel room. "I'm here to escort you to the meeting."

"In a minute," Suzaku pulled up the turtleneck of his costume and put on the helmet. He threw one last look at the full bodice mirror near the closet before exiting the only place – however temporal – he could be himself in his home country.

Zero followed her to the limousine outside the lobby of the hotel, by which they travelled in silence to the renovated Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building, _Tocho_, at Shinjuku-ku (4). Everyone seemed to freeze when Zero walked past the receptionists, eyes watching the caped figure of the world's saviour – _not him, not him, that was Lelouch_ – as his escort led him to the lift.

Zero was very, very surprised when he was presented a button which was previously hidden by the metal plating of the inside of the elevator. "Please enter the first door to your right," the junior civil servant stepped out of the lift and bowed. Zero was staring dumbly at her bent spine when the doors slid close.

'_There is a basement level this low?'_ Zero couldn't shake the thought off his head. Granted he'd never stepped inside _Tocho_ after…he murdered his father, and the building was refurbished, after all, but the fact remained that the button was concealed. Not many people were aware of the level's existence.

The masked figure followed the instruction given almost absently, his brain mulling over the importance of a secret base. His heart very nearly jumped when a green-eyed, long-haired relative of his jumped to his face and said, loudly, _"KONNICHIWA!"_

"Kaguya!" Suzaku exclaimed reflexively as he stepped back and pressed himself to the door he just went through, congratulating himself for not manhandling her on the instinct of self-preservation. "Lady Kaguya Sumeragi," he quickly covered his blunder.

"Zero-_sama_," Kaguya had a pout on her lips. For once, she wasn't dressed in kimono whose designs she'd modified. No, the girl – young woman, really – was dressed in a proper traditional kimono, though the colours were still considered gaudy if they were to really follow the conventions. Suzaku raised his eyebrow behind the mask. Kaguya didn't even do this when she represented Japan in numerous international conferences. What was she trying to prove? "I'm sorry if I shocked you. I thought you were Ohgi." She huffed and plopped onto one of the black leather couches situated around the medium-sized room, murmuring, '_he's late'_.

"It's all right, Lady Sumeragi," Zero remarked gingerly and sat opposite to her, crossing his fingers together and laying them on his knees as he leaned forward on his elbows to refrain from fidgeting. Being alone with his ex-fiancée made him nervous. He didn't know how much she knew about who the man behind the mask could be. Despite all that bubbly childishness she showed to others, Kaguya was extremely receptive.

"Let me guess," the Sumeragi spoke after a long drawn-moment, the chamber covered by the thick, discomforting cloak of silence. She grinned at Zero when he looked up at her to acknowledge her. "You're wondering why I'm here."

Suzaku didn't know how to respond to that bait. Was Zero supposed to be well-informed of the chains of authority in Japan's new parliament? He did involve himself marginally when Britannia was aiding the interim, enough to know that Kaguya's diplomatic role wasn't related to Defence the slightest bit. Kururugi Suzaku, though, comprehended why the last surviving Sumeragi was here. Was Kaguya trying to test that? In the end, Zero merely gave a soundless nod, and prepared himself for a long narrative.

But Kaguya, too, merely gave the icon a smile.

* * *

Cornelia assessed the scene before her with mounting alarm.

"Y-Yo-Your Highness!" The group of police officers who had been huddling around someone – beating that person, no less – inside a cell normally used to containing detainees, rushed to the other side of the bars and arranged themselves to a semblance of order inside that cramped basement office, shaking hands poised against their temples in salutation.

The former second Princess (and current Regent) of Britannia shot those policemen a disdainful, disgusted glare, but refrained from handing out 'punishments'. That wasn't her place. She shifted her attention on the person they'd bullied, instead, and gasped.

It felt as though the magenta-haired woman was thrown back in time. The purple bruises and swollen flesh made his features barely recognisable, but the young man on the floor inside the cell was undeniably so, so similar to her half brother. Cornelia didn't see Lelouch for ages – the eight years he spent in Japan (Area 11, then), proclaimed dead, and the three years after another very public death – but her half brother had always been exquisite, his resemblance to Marianne stronger than to their father, his beauty one-of-a-kind. It was terribly hard to forget the rare shade of his irises, those fine cheekbones, the line of his regal, aquiline nose, and the curve of his chin.

Cornelia blinked profusely, making sure that she wasn't hallucinating, before covering her eyes with a gloved hand and took a deep, shuddering breath to calm herself. Lelouch was always appallingly good at coming back from the dead, wasn't he? But then – she took another glance at the teenager, who was looking at her gratefully as he tried to pick himself up – this…this doppelganger of Lelouch seemed like he was in his late teenage years (the age of the ex-Emperor's death…), instead of twenty two, the age he would be if he were to live on. She shouldn't be hasty in making her conclusions.

"Can you walk?" She asked the detainee a question without looking at him. It was too painful. Her nails dug into her palms.

The gratitude that was on the way out of his injured lips died abruptly. The boy's stare turned distrustful, his stance less relaxed. After a bout of disconcerting quietness, he finally gave a nod, his eyes never leaving her figure, scrutinising, assessing.

He even _behaved_ like Lelouch.

"Go with me," Cornelia reached out to wrap her fingers around his thin wrist, narrowing her eyes at him when he struggled out of her grasp. "You don't have a choice." The royalty spoke in a commanding tone, the sentence 'this is an order!' clear in its wake. She shot the line of policemen a similar look. "I'll take the matter into my hands."

"Yes, Your Highness!" The Princess could hear the statement being chorused as she swept out of the office, her luggage in tow.

* * *

"I'm B-O-R-E-D," Lloyd Asplund drawled in a sing-song tune, leaning so far back on his chair he could almost fall backwards, slender fingers toying with a pencil. Ever since an international decree banning the manufacture of Knightmare frames specifically designed for battles was put into effect, the pale-haired scientist lost any interest in life (those used for agriculture and constructions didn't need to be as sophisticated). He'd been dragged by Cecile, who'd accepted Japan's invitation to celebrate her third Independence Day when Nunnally extended it to them. The blue-haired woman was happy to meet many of her past acquaintances, but the antisocial Lloyd could care less. He spent his days in research centres of the reinstated Tokyo University at Hongo, Bunkyo-ku (5), meddling in projects that vaguely amused him. Rakshata wasn't even here to banter against him and colour his dreary life, even a little.

Salvation from his gradual descend to death (by monotony, no less!) came in the name of Cornelia li Britannia. The thirty-year-old regent had barged into a temporal working space the University had loaned him, the visit itself surprising the ivory-haired scientist. When Lloyd laid his eyes on the person the Princess was dragging behind her, palest blue irises rounded in astonishment.

"Well, well, well," Lloyd rose to his feet languidly and circled the carbon copy of his former Emperor. "What do we have here…?" he chuckled gleefully.

The teenager glared at the older male, amethyst irises eying him warily through silky locks of black hair that concealed some of the bruises on his face.

Kamui resented that he'd been passed from one weirdo to another. Just who exactly was he before he lost his memories, and how was he related to these people? His lack of knowledge made it impossible for any attempts at persuasion!

"Lord Asplund," the woman who'd so vehemently pushed Kamui around – a Britannian royalty, he could discern that much from the respectful greetings bystanders gave her and how everyone seemed to recognise her – spoke with a tinge of distaste on her low, authoritative voice, lavender eyes twitching. The tall bespectacled man in a long white coat stopped watching Kamui with his unnerving gaze and shifted his attention to her. "Conduct DNA profiling."

"No can do," Lloyd dismissed the edict flippantly. Kamui's eyes bulged out in disbelief at such rudeness. From the way the royalty didn't order for his head to roll, the man must be a member of Nobility. "The late 99th Emperor's DNA isn't in the database. There's nothing to match his DNA to." Lloyd jabbed his thumb in Kamui's direction.

'Late Emperor,' the teenager heard it again. Was he really a monarch, before he lost his memories? Judging from the various tones of detestation attached to the words, he didn't seem terribly popular. Was he dethroned? Why?

Cornelia frowned, her grip around Kamui tightening. She still refused to meet his eyes. "Then, what do you propose we do?" She nearly snarled at the Baron. "How do we confirm it?"

Lloyd crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "Paternity test," his voice hid nothing of what he felt about the ex-second Princess. "Both you and the late Emperor have the same father, right?"

Cornelia narrowed her eyes. She didn't have a lot of time. Guilford would look for her if she weren't back in the hotel for dinner. "Get on with it, then!"

Lloyd Asplund gave a mockery of a bow. "Let's go to the Medical Experimental Research Building," he walked past them, "I'll lead the way."

* * *

"Ohgi-kun!" Kaguya jumped to her feet and poked the flustered young Prime Minister on his suit-clad chest. "You're late!" she pouted and gave the other male a childish glare, which looked out of place with her prim kimono. "Villetta!" The politician's wife wasn't spared. "You weren't holding him back, were you…?" the innuendoes were blatant in her grin.

_"I'm really sorry!"_ Ohgi raised both his hands and offered her a conciliatory gesture, while Villetta tried to hide the blush blossoming on her dark skin. _"All these preparations of the celebration are going to kill me, I swear-"_

"We're extremely sorry for taking time off your busy schedule, Zero-_sama_," Toudou's voice cut through the informal beginnings of the rendezvous. Ohgi bit his tongue in shock at the interruption and bowed his head in shame. He really should have watched his behaviours. "Please forgive our tardiness," the former General bowed to the caped figure.

Zero was quick to stand and bow back in greeting. "Oh, no, I am not inconvenienced in any way," he replied politely. "Lady Sumeragi is a remarkable host."

Five of them settled on the settees around the wooden table which was the centre of the recently furnished meeting room, and waited. Villetta engaged Toudou in small talks about Nagisa, before Kaguya joined the conversation and lightened the atmosphere. Ohgi's dark eyes darted towards the clock on the wall frequently, though.

Seconds ticked away. Eventually, Kaguya paused in her chatter and grumbled. "The Sakurazukamori is very late."

Villetta turned to her husband. "When was the appointment again?" she asked worriedly.

"10 a.m." Ohgi didn't need to re-look at the clock to confirm that the shorter arm was pointing at the number 11. "Are you sure that she agreed to come, Toudou-san?"

The older male gave a firm nod.

Kaguya snorted. "You can't expect a Sakurazukamori to honour his promises. He's the embodiment of death, luring unsuspecting innocents and seducing enemies into his folds." Something close to abhorrence flashed across those bright green eyes, the eyes whose colour Suzaku once shared (_before too many deaths, too many losses dull them_). Suzaku noted that she was still angry about her _Toushu_'s betrayal…

"_Well, well,_" a low drawl seemingly originated from thin air, "_I never know that the fifteenth Sumeragi Toushu is severely prejudiced and likes to badmouth others. How disgraceful. You said that I have been late. I'd like to correct that._"

All of a sudden, a figure materialised on one of the couches which _**appeared to be**_ previously vacant, thin legs tucked under the hem of a dark grey knee-length skirt with a formal cut, petite, curvy form swathed in a similarly coloured professional business suit. Long wavy dark brown strands were tied to a low ponytail, curled ends resting on one shoulder. The upper half of her oval face was concealed by huge designer sunglasses.

"_Saishou kara koko ni iru yo_ (I've been here the whole time),_" _those red, red lips curled silkily. _"Zutto_ (Always)."

* * *

Kamui continued struggling against the bindings of the chair he'd been so forcefully strapped to against his will, as the glow of the screen of the computer cast a glare on the lenses of the ivory-haired scientist's spectacles. His eyes were unreadable behind those reflective, deceptive surfaces.

"Lord Asplund?" Cornelia rolled down the sleeve of her shirt, covering the arm Lloyd had drawn her blood from, and inquired the other Britannian. "…How is the result?" she berated herself for that split second of hesitance.

The scientist slipped his hand into his pocket wordlessly, retrieving a small object Kamui couldn't see clearly due to the blinding light above him. The laboratory was large, dominated by steel grey and white and littered with large, complex machines which surely contained state-of-the-art technology.

"It's inconclusive," Lloyd reported, his voice giving away nothing of his feelings, as he turned to one of the machines, inserting the object – it was a card, Kamui realised belatedly, a micro-SD or something of the sort – and punching coloured buttons. The contraption whirred to life with loud, intimidating noises. "The analyser cannot identify strands of DNA that don't belong to a human," he dropped the bomb calmly.

TBC

A/N: I wonder if my style had changed. As I was writing the whole scene, I realise I tended to put more details that I used to. I admit I'm slightly influenced by akk's family matters – a truly wonderful, recommendable ff if you also ship X/1999! It's difficult for me because Code Geass' universe is clearly not the one used by X/1999, but I try to merge them together.

1. Again, thank wiki and www. npa. go. jp / English / kokusai / POJ2009full. pdf(remove spaces)

2. Marunouchi: a commercial district of Tokyo located in Chiyoda-ku between Tokyo Station and the Imperial Palace. Chiyoda-ku is one of the 23 special wards in central Tokyo. Many government institutions, such as the Diet, Prime Minister's residence, Supreme Court, as well as fifteen embassies are located in Chiyoda.

3. _**Onmyōdō **_is a traditional Japanese esoteric cosmology, a mixture of natural science and occultism. It is based on the Chinese philosophies of Wu Xing and Yin and yang.

4. Tochō (都庁) houses the headquarters of the Tokyo Metropolitan Government, which presides over not only the 23 wards, but also the cities, towns and villages that make up Tokyo as a whole. Located in Shinjuku, it held the title of the tallest building (by roof height) in Tokyo, at 243 meters (799 feet), from 1991 to late 2006.

5. Bunkyo-ku, Chiyoda-ku and Shinjuku-ku are neighbors, arranged next to one another like three leaves around the stem of a clover, with Chiyoda-ku as the cultural heart and soul of Tokyo, the Imperial Palace as a focal point.

Reply to **Liz Yeriod**: I'm sorry that Lelouch's helpless a lot in this chapter. I can't write a smart Lelouch coz I'm not smart myself, I can't think of that complicated a tactic, and considering how severely limited Kamui's knowledge is, it's possible that he's reluctant to act. Kamui's also unaware of his own intelligence. The more one is aware of one's intelligence, the more compelled he feels to use it, don't you think? I really hope I haven't disappointed you. Thank you so much for reviewing!


	6. Rendezvous

A/N: Soon, we won't be calling Lelouch Kamui anymore =) But I just realised that this fanfic might contain too many elements of X/1999 for some people's liking. If you don't understand anything, just ask and I'll answer them, kay?

Chapter 5: Rendezvous

Kamui froze.

Cornelia narrowed her eyes. "…What does it mean?" Her half brother had done something to cheat death again, didn't he?

"This kiddo's DNA contains codes that cannot be matched to any existing living creature. Anyone's wildest guess is mutation," Lloyd shrugged and placed something that was shaped like a thick metal helmet with myriads of coloured wires connecting it to a mainframe. Kamui was so out of it he didn't bother trying to make the job difficult – questions like, '_I am not human, either?'_ swirling in his head, messing up the awareness of his surroundings. _'Am I a mutant? Is that why S.S. hides me?'_ (A/N: No, Lelouch, this is not X-men!)

"But," Lloyd added, as though it was an afterthought, his grin almost positively _feral_. "I know better."

Cornelia didn't like the predatory, wild gleam in those pale blue eyes, but she couldn't decipher it. "…What's that?" The Britannian Princess eyed the machine sceptically. "What are you going to do with it?"

"Some kind of a mind reader," Lloyd answered absently, his concentration solely on the gears on the side of the helmet, "the device is able to detect one's brain activity, translating electrical synapses to pictures. If kiddo's really him, the images he remembered will be transmitted…" he ended impatiently with a dismissive gesture.

But Kamui _**didn't**_ _**remember **_anything. "I'm amnesiac," Kamui growled through gritted teeth, fiery amethyst eyes glaring at his captors. "This is useless. You have no right to keep me here, no prove that I'm the deceased Emperor."

Kamui didn't like the manic expression on the scientist's face. Not one bit. Even Cornelia was wary. Lloyd wasn't exactly famous for being ethical either, with that record of assigning a human being to be the pilot of an experimental Knightmare frame with no safety hatch system installed. Granted, Kururugi Suzaku's extraordinary abilities enabled him to survive that highly risky ordeal and even rose through the ranks as the 'white _Shinigami_', but dumb luck (was it a misfortune after all?) don't happen that often.

"There are many kinds of amnesia. To cut the scientific explanation short, most of the time, the memories are not lost, per se," (1) that condescending tone entered the researcher's voice again. "You just lose the access. The beauty of this missy here is," Lloyd caressed the machine as though it was a person, a lover. Cornelia always felt that the man had his priorities backwards. "It can break apart any barrier to those memories and force you to remember."

Kamui gulped and shivered, despite the fact that he was sweating from the heat of the lighting. He imagined it wasn't going to be pretty, that 'breaking apart of barriers'. He began to fight against the bindings in his earnest, the look of a hunted animal clear in his irises. "Let me go! This is violation of human rights!"

His cries seemed to have fallen on deaf ears. Lloyd adjusted the setting on the mainframe happily, humming tunes under his breath. The magenta-haired loyalty was looking at everything else but him.

Kamui utilised whatever scarce information he'd gathered, betting his shots on this plea. "_Nee-san_," (2) he begged, "Please…"

Cornelia was startled. The battle of emotional responses was very apparent in her façade – anger, hatred, sadness, _**affection, regrets**_– her reaction was so strong-

Lloyd didn't allow Cornelia's doubt to fester and hinder the implementation of his experimentation. "Here we go!" He pressed the button with one definitive sharp move almost gleefully.

Electrical impulses triggered Kamui's brain. His spine tensed from the pain, eyes closing as the lights began to prick his sight, his face scrunching from the beginnings of a massive headache the machine was inducing. Other senses – whirring noises of the machine, the texture of grains of wood under his fingers, the coppery tang in his mouth – slipped away, trapping him in his mind. Photographs flitted across the back of his eyelids, images of the rooms of the cottage he'd spent his last couple of weeks in, the foods he cooked, the strange crane-like mark on his palm, S.S., smiling at him, staring pensively at him, throttling him, the grave he climbed out of – visual information rolling like rewinding a movie.

Then, there was emptiness.

Lloyd frowned at the monitor.

"Stop it!" Cornelia saw the boy's clenched knuckles – so white, crescent-shaped nails clawing helplessly on the chair. "The machine is ineffective! You're causing him unnecessary pain!"

"No, it's not!" Lloyd defended the invention. "We just need to up the conditions…" he turned a knob to a maximum.

The scream that tore out of Kamui's throat was _bloodcurdling_. "STOP PLEASE!" the teenager began to babble, pleas and cries of Japanese and Britannian languages melding to a string of incoherent shrieks. His head felt like it was banged against a hard, blunt object and pierced by forks, repeatedly. Beads of tears leaked out of thick black eyelashes, threading down curved, pale cheeks. He bit his lips so hard droplets of blood and saliva dripped down his chin. His limbs struggled so hard to curl into himself, Cornelia feared that he was going to snap his own bones.

"LORD ASPLUND!" The regent tried to get herself heard above the _noises of torture_. "THIS IS OUT OF LIM-"

A picture flashed on the screen of the computer.

It was that of a city, destroyed. Ghosts of structures of skyscrapers littered the place, along with corpses of various stages of decomposition, flaky brown colour of dried blood covering shards of broken glass, steel and concrete. The city was Tokyo, Cornelia and Lloyd realised belatedly as they saw the Tower and _Tocho_, the only buildings which remained standing.

In 1999 a.t.b., Tokyo (and, by extension, Kanto) had been hit by short, frequent bursts of earthquakes. The capital had been rendered inhabitable, the economy in shambles, stock index and currency plunging, so many lives and technology lost. Japan's administration had been moved temporarily to Kyoto until the natural disasters finally stopped in December 1999. Even then, Japan could only crawl back up slowly, usage of resources concentrated in restoring the capital.

Britannia had utilised this golden opportunity to strike. And won. The rest was history.

Another picture replaced the previous one, zooming in the Tower. Amongst the scene of carnage there were caped figures, standing at opposite sides with a wide berth between them. One of the figures was a tall boy with spiky hair and mocking brown eyes. The lens of his black sunglasses reflected the face of the person whose eyes were capturing the image: a young boy whose appearance was eerily similar to Lelouch – pale and thin, with delicate features and stunning amethyst stones for eyes, fires of fury and innumerable other multifarious, passionate, confused feelings dancing on his irises.

After that, images flashed at a more rapid rate: Tokyo at diverse stages of destruction, blood on one's hands, unfamiliar faces, a young beautiful woman with long, silky straight hair and a stern countenance, a carefree young monk with a sunny grin, a bubbly short-haired girl who was always accompanied by a greyish dog, a bespectacled middle-aged man with a gentle smile…more of the tall boy with spiky hair…but the person who seemed to dominate the pictures was a beautiful young man in his early twenties, his painfully emaciated body swathed in monochromic clothes and trench coat, his hair and long, long lashes black as midnight framing the soft curve of his cheeks and his dull green eyes. The latter seemed perpetually melancholic. In some photos he were blind in one eye, in others, he had mismatched green and gold ones.

"SU-SUBARU…!" One bandaged hand jerked out to reach out at an imaginary figure. Kamui gave a heart-wrenching sob when fingers curled around thin air. "_Ta-tasukete _(S-save me)…"

Cornelia's frown deepened. "That's enough," she told the researcher. "From his memories, we know he can't possibly be…" her voice broke and she clamped up. She couldn't say the name of her sister's murderer out loud, still.

Lloyd clucked his teeth and shook his head. "You're wrong," he stated firmly as he looked through the pool of images previously flashed on the display (_new ones were_ _still flashing_), and clicked at one to enlarge it.

Cornelia couldn't mistake the landscape it depicted. She was just there a few nights ago. "The graveyard at Kururugi Shrine…"

The 'pudding baron' nodded. "See the mount of fresh soil?" he tapped the screen with the capped end of his pen. "Someone dug it out for him and let him climb out."

Cornelia was alarmed. "Who? Why? How can he be alive at all?" _We saw him killed. I saw his corpse up close. There was so much blood gushing out of his abdomen. _She covered her mouth when bile rose to her throat.

"I have a theory," Lloyd grabbed the outstretched wrist, pressing down hard on clammy, tense muscles. Violet petals blossomed almost immediately on the canvas that was the boy's pearly, nearly translucent skin. The older male's other hand clawed at the bandage, pulling stripes of white gauze apart and turning the boy's palm upward.

Under the harsh lighting of the laboratory, dark red _Geass_ symbol gleamed almost menacingly across the lines of the boy's hand, a stark contrast to the lack of colours of the limb it was etched on. Fingers twitched futilely before curling in like the leaves of a _mimosa pudica _(3), nails digging to flesh, unconsciously hiding a secret. The ivory-haired scientist pried the appendages apart and wedged them between the armrest and another leather strap, tied so tightly the tips turned blue from lack of blood circulation.

"How much do you know about the _Geass_, Your Highness?" the researcher asked sweetly before turning to a cabinet by the wall and looked into the second drawer.

Butter wouldn't melt on Lloyd's tongue. Cornelia shot the question back. "How much do _you_ know about _Geass_?"

The scientist thought of C.C., V.V., Jeremiah Gottwald's _Geass Canceller_ and further individual investigation which had led him to remnants of the _Geass Order_ database. He never expected that an in-depth research on Ganymede could open Pandora's Box (4). "Enough to know that it can grant its user immortality." _Only if the user's strong enough to withstand the madness of Geass._

Lavender eyes rounded in comprehension. "B-but-" they darted between the insignia and the aristocrat. "Are you sure-"

Lloyd shrugged. "We can find out…" He turned back with a gun in his grip. An unregistered 9 mm Sig-Sauer SAS.

The bullet had pierced through the boy's chest by the end of Cornelia's choked gasp.

* * *

Everyone jumped to their feet in shock.

Only the Minister of Defence remained on his seat. "_Ohisasiburi desu _(Long time no see)_, Sakurazukamori-san,_" he straightened his back and gave their guest a respectful nod.

Behind the tinted surface of the mask's lens, Suzaku blinked. He certainly didn't expect the bogeyman to be a petite _teenage girl_ whose wrists were nearly half his size. The image in his mind had been a tall, intimidating man, with arms that could snap a neck in a blink of an eye. But years spent in the army had taught Suzaku better. No one is what s/he seems. For all he knew, may be the Sakurazukamori could pack a punch like Kallen, or perform miracles on a Knightmare like Anya.

"_Likewise, Kyou-kun,_" the shadow assassin bent her head forward, "_Or…should I call you boei-daijin _(Defence Minister)_ now? You've rose through the ranks quite quickly. It's not without its price, I'd imagine."_

"_Call me as you wish, Sakurazukamori-san,"_ the former general remarked neutrally before he finally rose to his feet as well and gestured at Ohgi, who looked like he was on the brink of getting an aneurism. _"This is Kaname Ohgi."_ Toudou gave the perfunctory introduction.

"_Ha-hajimemashite_ (How do you do)?" he gulped and offered his hand.

"_Soori-daijin_ (Prime Minister)," The Sakurazukamori stood and bowed slightly. _"Do forgive me for not shaking your hand. I have just performed a job."_ Ohgi paled when the implications of her words sunk into his brain.

"_Before I forget,_" the small woman interrupted the _boei-daijin_ as he was about to introduce Villetta. Everyone tensed when the Sakurazukamori slipped her hand into her breast pocket, and sighed in relief when the object retrieved was only a nondescript brown envelope. _"You will find evidence of the elimination of GT inside,_" the sleeve of her white shirt was exposed when she passed the envelope to Toudou – stained dark, dark red, as though soaked in blood – and the tension returned. _"I trust that you know where his body has ended up by now._"

But the rest didn't know. And the morbidity of the notion of a corpse, disappearing without a trace, made them anxious.

Toudou gave a small nod of acknowledgement before continuing his obligations, disregarding the heightening need to fight or flight in the atmosphere. Villetta's attempt at pleasantries failed another time.

"_Don't bother with the introductions. We know each other already,_" Kaguya spoke snappishly and glared, her pride still smarting from the insult. "_Can't you take off those sunglasses? It's rude, not to mention pointless, to wear it indoors."_

"_In our line of business, one should know the significance of concealing one's identity. Why, a man had managed to kill another with just a name and a face."_ (5) The Sakurazukamori threw Kaguya's lack of knowledge of the arts to her face, the assassin's tone positively acrid. The two ladies hated each other's gut and were content to show the detestation to one another.

Toudou took a seat and cleared his throat. "_If Sakurazukamori-san would like to commence the discussion…?_"

Everyone followed the Minister of Defence's example, smoothing creases of clothes caused by a change in position. _"Generations of Sakurazukamori had worked under the National Public Security Commission in dealing with people who abused spiritual powers in perpetrating crimes, before the invasion. Likewise, I would like to re-offer my service to the NPSC."_ (6) The elfin girl was straight to the point. _"You've tested my efficiency. I believe the results are satisfactory._"

"_I don't doubt that, Sakurazukamori-san,"_ Toudou gave Kaguya a warning glance. _"Your capability is not the issue."_

The assassin tilted her head, posing a question silently. '_So, what is the issue?'_

"_Anata wa Nihon wo uragimashita _(You betrayed Japan)," Kaguya unheeded the reproach and exclaimed heatedly, her large green eyes fiery and accusing, "_You, who are supposed to be Japan's shadow protector, abandoned her when she needed you most! Have you no shame? We can longer trust you with her safety!_"

The young assassin seemed unabashed, had the audacity to flick dirt off her nails, as though asking, 'Are you done?' before looking down at the black-haired girl "_Boku wa Koute Heika to Nihon ga chuusei wo chikaimashita_ (I pledged my loyalty to the Emperor and the Empire of Japan)," her lips curled to a sneer, "Area _juu-ichi jyanai_ (not to Area 11)!"

It was peculiar that the young woman referred to herself as a boy (7), Suzaku noted. What could have given rise to that?

Kaguya rose to her feet in outrage. "_Burei na_ (Such rudeness)!"

"_Ja, oshienasai _(Then, tell me)," the Sakurazukamori crossed her legs flippantly, "_Who was supposed to represent the Emperor during the colonialism? General Katase from Japan Liberation Front? Kirihara from Kyoto Six? Zero from the Order of Black Knights? Definitively speaking, the leader of Japan that time was the Governor, right? Should I have lent it to Clovis, Cornelia, Callares or Nunnally-Sootoku, then, this power of mine?_" she harrumphed and crossed her arms.

"_That's no excuse! You could have acted on your own. As sword-of-the-shadow, _(8)_ I know you even possess the authority to judge the Emperor. You ignored Japan's plea based on your own negligence!" _Kaguya raised her voice and stepped closer to her Clan's enemy.

The Sakurazukamori met the stream of admonitions with utmost calm, crossing her arms and leaning on the back of the couch. _"Who's to say that Britannia's invasion was catastrophic for Japan?_"

Ohgi flinched and clenched his fists, fuming at the insinuations hinted by the question, losses of lives – precious, irreplaceable lives – dismissed. The fifteenth Sumeragi _Toushu_ turned red on the face. _"Are you implying that Japan n-needed t-that-"_

"_Stifling, overused seniority based conventions which were no longer effective and had given rise to apathy amongst youths, ergo rising numbers of suicides, NEETs and hikikomori._ (9)_ Persistent devaluation and low birth rates. Competitions for power amongst elites who didn't give a damn about the rest. The general populace didn't care much for each other either." _The Sakurazukamori ticked her fingers off, one by one, and sneered. "_You're one of the elites, I bet. Have you ever walked in the city – on feet, not by car, mind you – and watched the faces of people stampeding across the streets? Saw their bone-deep weariness, the lingering depression, or the sad, sad indifference?" _

"_Sonna Nihon wa sukuwareta kunai datou omou _(Do you think that Japan didn't want to be saved)_?" _The assassin lifted her chin and challenged.

"_I-"_ Kaguya was at a loss for words. She had, indeed, been born with a silver spoon in the mouth, spent her childhood never having a taste of desolation. Likewise, Suzaku and Toudou had been born with privileges. Ohgi was the only one who could vaguely remember. The reason Naoki founded their group in the first place was to find an escape from the harsh world who didn't care about them, to find support and friendship in youths of similar fates. People like Tamaki and himself had no place in the Old Japan.

Suddenly, Kaguya looked smug. _"How can you possibly know these? You must be too young back then! Don't assume that Japan needed salvation!"_

The Sakurazukamori stared at the green-eyed girl for a while, leaving uncomfortable silence in its wake, before she laughed. Truly laughed, not a polite chuckle covered with the back of her hand. _"I'll have you know that I'm well into my thirties. Right, Kyou-kun? You've worked with me before the invasion."_

Toudou's response at Kaguya's inquiring gaze was a short firm nod. _"Since 2004 a.t.b., to be exact." _

Everyone else blinked. The assassin appeared way, way younger.

"_Daitai_ (Anyways), _look how much better Japan is, now." _The Sakurazukamori capitalized on the momentum to emphasize her points. _"The people are more bonded. Birth rates are through the roof – as is the trend with post-wars – and the apathy, outdated conventions and elitisms are gone." _ She turned to the prime minister. _"Forgive me for saying this, Ohgi-san, but I don't think you could be made Soori-daijin in the Old Japan._"

'_Probably wouldn't have met Villetta as well.'_ The diplomat waved his hand dismissively. _"It's all right. I agree with you." _

Kaguya shot the former leader of Black Knights a betrayed look before arguing again. "_How could you be so sure that Japan would be able to defeat the colonization?"_

"_Don't underestimate the yumemi _(dream seers)._They had seen everything. Of course you're also partially right. I couldn't be bothered to participate in the rebellion._" She shrugged, "_You're out of luck. My predecessors might have been wiling to. For all his love of western music, clothes, literatures and culture Seishirou-san considered Japan his, and believe me, he would have defended anything he considered his to death. Subaru-san's sense of duty was far too much to be considered healthy._"

After listening to tales the priestesses recited to him in his childhood and reading terror-inducing myths from the archive, Suzaku imagined the Sakurazukamori a ruthless demon, the sort of monster adults told children to fear because it would punish them once they were out of the line. Seeing this Sakurazukamori and hearing her talk about previous Sakurazukamori made the figure more human, that the word was merely a title, and the person carrying that an icon that deterred crimes and care about Japan's wellbeing.

Much like he was.

One day, Suzaku would have to pass the title 'Zero' to someone else, an icon who would preserve peace and justice after his long awaited death.

"_Don't you dare praise Sumeragi Subaru's sense of duty!"_ Meanwhile, Kaguya became more aggravated. "_Ano kata wa chuujitsu dewa arimasen_ (That person wasn't dutiful!)_! He was a shame to the Sumeragi Clan!_" The petite young woman nearly bellowed, her fair cheeks flushing impossibly redder.

Suzaku saw the Sakurazukamori flinching, knuckles turning white from gripping the armchair, before her lips moved silently, mumbling some words. A mantra, he realised, when a large eagle materialised next to her head, majestic in its metaphysical form, grey-gold eyes gleaming maliciously before it screeched, a high pitch, angry sound, and spread its wide, strong wings before lunging in Kaguya's direction, sharp claws extended.

"_Abunai _(It's dangerous)_!_" Suzaku reverted to his native tongue reflexively, throwing himself to Kaguya's front and shielding his cousin behind his back. He thanked the Gods for the protection of Zero's all encompassing mask as he raised his arms away from him to protect his torso, unsure if he could catch an incorporeal bird...

"_Nandaro!_" (10) the Sakurazukamori cried, her fingers slipping to her pocket to retrieve a slip of black paper, a crimson inverted pentagram sketched on the centre, and aimed it at the eagle. Once they collided a spherical ward was formed around the beast, imprisoning it. Enraged, the eagle screeched again and went berserk, charging against the wall of its cage repeatedly. Another winged creature appeared on the _onmyoji_'s shoulder, slender, beautiful and almost fragile, yet the three-headed bird emanated strength and tranquillity as it flew to the eagle and enveloped both in a flurry of white feathers.

"_Ikinasai _(You may go)," the Sakurazukamori told the _Shikigami_ (11) when it gave her inquiring looks. The eagle had stopped flailing about but was puffing its chest up, now, hooked beak tilted upwards as though indignant and pissed at the assassin. The pale bird hooted softly and hovered back to the girl, one of the heads rubbing against a proffered hand. "_Don't worry about me. I can summon Shizuka in times of need_."

The three heads nodded simultaneously before the ward was dissolved with a swish. The eagle gave one last disgruntled howl before disintegrating to nothing. The ivory beauty took off to the spot his companion disappeared from, but deflected halfway, one swan-like wing caressing Zero on the shoulder as three pairs of green-grey eyes stared at him affectionately before the breathtaking creature was gone from this realm.

Shaken and puzzled, Kaguya dropped to the couch, her legs wobbling, and glared at her nemesis. "_What have you done?" _

The Sakurazukamori looked unrepentant. _"Someone who cannot see a shikigami is unfit to be the sword-of-the-light._" The brown-haired woman turned and gave Zero a long, hard stare. _"On the other hand, _Zero-_sama, here seems to possess some talents for the arts. My Shikigami seemed to recognise you. Are you related to the Sumeragi?"

* * *

_

The amethyst-eyed boy slumped backward like a marionette whose strings had been cut abruptly, long black strands cascading down the back of the wooden chair like vines, a trail of life's essence leaking out of the corner of thin, fine lips. Another pool of blood spread out on the fabric covering his chest, soaking his white shirt dark red. His eyes were wide open in shock, brightness fading from the exquisite colour.

"LORD ASPLUND!" Cornelia dropped to her knees in front of their prisoner and pressed her hands against the wound to stop the blood flow. The regent froze when she realised that the boy's chest was still, and there was no heartbeat under her palms.

She'd let someone murder a person who could be an innocent civilian before her.

"Lord Asplund!" The magenta-haired royalty hissed and turned her head. "You-"

"Ssshhh," the ivory-haired scientist interrupted, his pale blue eyes staring at the corpse raptly. "Watch," he breathed.

Cornelia couldn't believe her senses. _'He just killed a person and all he could say was-'_

'Thump,'

'Thump, thump,'

Cornelia retracted her hands away from the dead body so fast, as though they were scalded by fire. Lavender eyes rounded at the sight of smooth _**unblemished**_chest, unmarred by bullet wounds, rising and falling with each breath-

A violet glow encased the pale young man, intense and blinding. Cornelia took a step back, shielding her eyes with her arm, as the light tore each of the leather constraints binding the body to the chair, blowing back furniture and completely destroying the machine attached to his head. Lloyd wasn't covering his face at all. He had a wild, excited grin instead, like an overgrown child on Christmas day.

The boy rose to his feet and _hovered_ above the ground, his eyes unfocused, as though he was in a daze. The glow had subsided to a faint buzzing, most vivid at the vicinity of the _Geass_ insignia.

"…Subaru…" he murmured, approaching the nearest window like a zombie. In a drunken haze, the boy opened the latch and climbed the ledge.

Llyod shared Cornelia's terror this time, only for an entirely different reason (his experimental subject was getting away!). "Is he insane? This is the seventh store-"

Jaws dropped to the floor when the young man who had just been self-resurrected leapt off, jumping in one flawless projectile motion before landing on the roof of the Medical Library on his feet like a cat. '_Could C.C. or V.V. do that?' _Lloyd could only blink profusely as their former captive was making clean arcs in the air, heading to a certain place, indifferent to stunned faces below him.

Cornelia was the first to recover. "What are you gawking at?" she snapped, "Call the authorities! We need to capture him!"

* * *

Crap.

Suzaku tried to handle the question as diplomatically as possible, while keeping any trace of emotion out of his voice. He sucked at acting – _not like Lelouch_ – and was forever grateful for the mask and voice synthesizer. "_I'm sorry Sakurazukamori-san, I think I deserve the right to protect my identity." _Like you, was unspoken, but evidently suggested.

"_Fair enough,_" thankfully, the assassin understood and let it go. She turned to Toudou. "_I think we've deflected from our main point. Shall we-"_

The rest was alarmed when the Sakurazukamori gave a sudden cry and doubled over on her seat, one hand clenching the side of her neck, her sunglasses clattering to the floor. Ohgi stood up reflexively and moved to help, but he was stopped by Toudou, who shook his head silently.

Suzaku froze when he saw the hint of a mark he was too familiar with glowing red on the pale column of flesh over her collarbone. _Not again,_ he thought, _please not again.

* * *

_

They must have looked like they were making an action movie, Cornelia thought wryly as a troop of police cars were chasing a boy who could jump over 10 metres of distance across rooftops, light poles and highways. Time and time, cars and pedestrians stopped in their track to point at the anomaly, causing the roads to be jammed. Some even took out their cell phones or cameras to record the scene.

The boy seemed to know his way around despite his proclaimed amnesia. Tokyo, to the former second Princess, had transformed beyond recognition. Gone was the Ghettos and Britannian districts; Tokyo was rebuilt (again) according to how the city was before the invasion. As though people wanted to forget that nightmare ever existed.

But Cornelia doesn't want to forget.

"Moving from Chiyoda-ku to Shinjuku-ku," the police officer driving the car Lloyd and Cornelia were in reported to his walkie-talkie, keeping one eye on the moving dot at the horizon. Amazement and disbelief were etched on his face, still. "Judging from the direction, the target seems to be moving towards _Tocho._"

* * *

S.S. was talking to the bunch of hopeless idiots – well, not every one of them, just one person she particularly loathed (_how dare she talked about Subaru-san that way!)_ when pain overloaded her senses.

S.S. had been careless. Had not doubted Kamui – no, he's not exactly Kamui, nor was he Lelouch – when he was acting somewhat strange last night. S.S. should have erased his memory of that curtain-cutting incident, but she had been too afraid. Kamui's mind was complex. His recollections as Lelouch might have been sealed by C.C. in the Museum of Memories, but it was possible his soul remembered his former life as Shirou Kamui, since he was reincarnated just moments after his death. Throw the Code into the mix, and S.S. thought she could be pardoned for being wary of what her tampering could result in. Doesn't change the fact that she should have.

Because the daft genius (is that even possible? Shirou Kamui was rather stupid, but Lelouch was too smart, anyways) had just died, and as a fellow Code Holder who wasn't shielding herself – another miscalculation of hers – she could feel his Code activating in the most unpleasant manner.

S.S. closed her eyes and let herself be immersed in the extensive network of Eden Vital. Her vessel was somewhat vulnerable at that moment, but she needed to find the troublesome brat – _he's close and approaching-

* * *

_

The lobby of Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building was subjected to chaotic chatters when a strange, ethereal, beautiful long-haired boy landed in front of the door from the roof of Keio Plaza Hotel, leaving dents and cracks on the tiles but remained unharmed. The security guards were too bewildered to stop the boy from walking past the entrance. The crowd parted like the red sea when he made his way to the lift, managing to occupy the box nearly by himself. Still in a stupor, he reflexively uncovered the hidden button and pressed it, ignoring the shock on the face of the elevator lady.

The partition between the doors of the device revealed a horde of uniformed officers barging into the lobby before sliding close.

* * *

After taking several deep breaths, the Sakurazukamori rose to her feet and opened her eyes.

Suzaku couldn't help but stare. Not because those eyes were large, round and single-lidded – those were typical in Japanese people – but because they were mismatched, gold and green, the contrast in colours vivid even through the tinted lens of Zero's mask. They were captivating and unnerving; each seemed to possess a character on its own, the amber iris mocking, but the green was dull – much like his eyes, Suzaku realised with a jolt – and melancholic.

Those eyes were turning hard, now. "_An emergency has come up,"_ the shadow assassin stated and bowed briskly. "_My utmost apology, Soori-daijin, Boei-daijin,_ Zero-_sama, Ms. Villetta, Sumeragi-san. I will be waiting for your decision." _

She walked to the door without even listening to their reply. Ohgi stood up and ran after her. "_Sakurazukamori-san, we have a few more issues to clarify-"_

"_You're not allowed to pass through!"_ a low growl could be heard from the corridor – it must belong to the Prime Minister's bodyguards. "_Step back!"_

"_But Subaru is inside-"_

Suzaku couldn't breathe.

He knew that voice. Had been haunted by it for years. Had missed it so much it hurt, during endless sleepless nights after Zero was released from conferences and other duties to retreat to his room, and the man behind the mask emerged, lying on an empty bed wishing, _wishing_-

The Sakurazukamori wrenched the door open in haste. Just as the petite woman was about to rush outside, a figure threw himself onto her in a flurry of long black hair, slender arms wrapped around her waist, white sleeves stained dark red against the dark grey of the business suit. "Subaru," he sighed.

Rooted to the ground in astonishment, Suzaku stared at the profile of the figure, the curve of the jaw and the luscious lips he'd memorised with his own lips and the tips of his fingers, those regal cheekbones, the line of his nose, those soft, silky locks black as spilled ink.

There was no mistaking him. _His former enemy. His former best friend. His former lover._

"Lelouch."

TBC

A/N: I guess my dislike of Kaguya's really clear here, huh. Well, I'm sorry to those who like her. I cannot find her significance in the series other than someone for Zero to use in political discussions. She has her moments…but again, I just don't like her.

1. It's unfounded. Just my guess, really.

2. Nee-san: One doesn't necessarily have to be another's older sister to be called that. There are times one can refer to an older female that way. I think. (Point at Sorata who likes to call Arashi 'Nee-san')

3. More commonly known as 'touch me not'.

4. Can't help myself from borrowing the idea from RobinRocks' The Ghost in the Machine. Check that awesome fic!

5. Light Yagami from Death Note, of course XP

6. NPSC: its function is to guarantee the neutrality of the police system by insulating the force from political pressure and ensuring the maintenance of democratic methods in police administration. It is believed that it watches for extreme nationalist activists as well. Liberals have long criticized the secrecy of the commission and have cautioned that it undermines the rights of the Japanese people.

7. Boku: also means _"I"_. Used by males and rarely females (boyish), in giving a sense of casual deference, uses the same kanji for servant (僕_shimobe_), especially a male one, from a Sino-Japanese word. Can also be used towards children (English equivalent - "kid").

8. Sword-of-the-shadow and sword-of-the-light – the ideas borrowed from akk's Family Matters.

9. Hikikomori (literally means "pulling away, being confined,") are reclusive adolescents and young adults who have chosen to withdraw from social life, often seeking extreme degrees of isolation and confinement.

10. From wikipedia: Subaru and his twin sister Hokuto, as well as Seishirō, were first conceived by series creator Ohkawa for a dōjinshi novel about an onmyōji who hunts elves, of which only the beginning exists. In the dōjinshi, Seishirō's shikigami was named _Nandaro_ (_"Just what is this?"_), and CLAMP privately still refers to it by this name.

11. _**Shikigami**_ (式神) is a kind of spirit summoned to serve a practitioner of _onmyōdō_, much like a western familiar.


End file.
